


A Moment's Reprieve

by DarthSinistra



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Gore, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Jealousy, Medical Procedures, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Trauma, bi reader, medic reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-04-07 17:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19089310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSinistra/pseuds/DarthSinistra
Summary: re·prieve · /rəˈprēv/ · (verb)cancel or postpone the punishment of (someone, especially someone condemned to death).





	1. Teeming Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Gore and suicide attempt(s) in later chapters.

The first stars of the night glittered in the eastern sky, the heavens garnished with gradient hues of orange and pink, the sun threatening to dip below the western horizon, twilight had descended on Spira once more. A cottage—your home—sat in a clearing deep into the forest along the western coast of Spira, beyond the Calm Lands, far from civilization. Tall trees densely surrounded the borders of the meadow, easily missable to those who weren't trying to look out for your cottage. A deep blue lake and white wildflowers decorated the landscape, bees zipped from flower to flower, drunk on the abundance of nectar, collecting what they could while there was still light. The sound of clucking filled the air, coming from behind your home from the enclosure where you kept livestock.

Neighbors and visitors were scarce, but you preferred living in solitude, away from human contact, life was simpler amongst nature. You lived alone, it had been like this for a long time, and you were fine with that.

You were seeing off a guest at the entrance of your home, exchanging words with your only visitor as of late, Kimahri, a member of the Ronso tribe—recently exiled.

You had met him while you were out gathering herbs. It was beginning to become late, much like it is now. You had a quota to meet, a client of yours needed his prescription by tomorrow morning. It was reckless, but you felt pressured to deliver even if it meant risking your safety. The forest was dangerous to tread after dark, fiends and predators were more active when the sun went down. Distracted, you failed to notice you were being followed. You were picking the last herb needed when you were ambushed, a group of Bandersnatch wolves had set their sights on making you their next meal. They were almost successful when Kimahri stepped in to save you, losing his horn during the scuffle.

After apologizing profusely, you became friends with Kimahri, offering to heal his scrapes as a thank you for saving you and extended an invitation to your home for tea.

Although your friendship was unorthodox, Kimahri accepted your offer to visit you. You learned shortly after meeting him, his tribe had outcasted him upon his return to their territory; to have one’s horn damaged or missing was a great disgrace punishable by exile.

Since then, he visited often. At first, being honest with yourself, you felt sympathy for Kimahri, you felt completely responsible for his punishment. He was younger than you, still a teenager, it was unfair to bestow such a severe punishment on someone as young as he. As ridiculous as it sounded you saw him as something of a younger brother. You would have gladly took him in but he refused, claiming that it was beneficial if he learned to survive on his own.

You didn't understand the customs of the Ronso but had to respect Kimahri's wishes. You believed it was beyond cruel to reject one’s own flesh and blood in favor of appearances and honor. It was unforgivable.

Overall, you were grateful to have met him, without meaning to, you found solace in his company. You didn’t realize how much you had missed the affection of another until he became a part of your world. You had grown fond of Kimahri in the short time you had known him. He was hardly one for conversation but nonetheless his presence felt comforting. You found the silent afternoons spent together pleasant and enjoyable.

You opened the door of your home, a chilly breeze caressing your skin. The sun was just beginning to set behind the high outline of trees, marking the end of another day; its beams still warm contrary to the wind.

“Thanks for stopping by, Kimahri. You know you’re always welcomed here.” You smiled up at him. “Will you be joining me to my upcoming trip to Bevelle? I need to sell the goods I’ve been preparing.”

He grunted in affirmation, stopping beside you.

“Kimahri will go with you. Many dangers, Y/N needs protection.” He gave a mock bow.

You raised an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey, it was just one time, got it? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

Kimahri let out a huff, similar to that of a laugh. It was the first time you recalled him teasing you. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, glad to see him opening up enough to joke with you. He was normally so serious, almost stiff. You sometimes wondered if he had any sense of humor at all.

“Alright then. You should get going before the sun sets, or you might be the one that needs saving.” You turned your head to face the meadow, wind blowing stray strands of your hair into your eyes, obscuring your line of sight. You pushed the hair out of your face, sweeping it behind your ears. “See you soon, okay?”

And then you saw it.

A bright red heap amongst the gentle swaying of white wildflowers, completely out of place.

You paused, taking a moment to figure out what could it be. It appeared to be a bundle of cloth but from the distance you couldn’t be certain.

“That wasn’t there earlier…” You trailed off, turning to Kimahri. “Was that there when you got here, Kimahri?” You gestured toward the object.

Kimahri leaned forward and squinted his eyes, head tilting slightly, then glanced down to you, shaking his head.

“What could it be then?” You wondered.

Stepping lightly, you began to make your way over to the other side of the meadow, over to where the object lay near the border of where the grass and wildflowers ended and the trees began. You had to be cautious in case it ended up being a wounded animal or fiend. You definitely didn’t want to be caught in its path when it thrashed or decided to charge. Whatever it was, you couldn’t let it just lie there either. You didn't need to attract more predators, the livestock you kept in the back attracted enough as it is.

Kimahri watched you carefully, standing by the entrance of your home, spear in hand.

You already felt regret not bringing a weapon along, you felt exposed. Vulnerable.

As you approached, inching your way closer, you realized it was a man—your breath hitched in your throat. Not from the realization, but from the _stench_.

A smell you were all too familiar with.

Blood.

Everywhere.

All over him.

The smell _overwhelmed_ your senses, sharp metallic tang filling the air.

It covered nearly every surface visible to you. The coat he wore was absolutely drenched in it. Whether it was his blood or someone else’s, you weren’t sure.

He was face down in the tall grass, with his matted hair loose and obscuring his upper back and most of his face.

Standing over him, you peered down, assessing whether he was still alive or not.

You froze when a single brown eye shot open, meeting yours, half-lidded gaze piercing through you.

It felt like your blood had iced over. Your eyes could not leave his, holding you in place from the intensity alone, your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

You felt a scream build in your throat, but when your mouth fell open, no sound came out. If he was this intimidating barely conscious, you can only imagine how scary he was fully aware.

He groaned and let out a weak cough, instantly snapping you out of the sheer terror that overcame you.

By the mercy of the Fayth, he was still alive! You had to help him!

“Kimahri! Get the gurney! Quickly!” You called over your shoulder.

Without further delay, Kimahri disappeared into the house to retrieve the requested item.

You scrambled to the man’s side, dropping to your knees beside him and attempted to flip him over onto his back, covering your hands in blood as you did so. Despite the struggle, after a few tries you successfully got him onto his back.

The man was massive, much taller than you and bulky with muscle, had Kimahri not been here to lend you a hand it would be incredibly difficult to get him into your home. You wondered how would you even manage without him.

Now with a better vantage point, you could see the man was gravely injured, blood seeping through the tears in his clothes. The first noticeable wound was a wicked gash that started at his hairline, curved and running down where his eye would be, ending just below his cheekbone, making a bloody mess of the right side of his face.

Your senses began to kick into overdrive, you had to save him! If you didn’t act fast he was going to die—

“Please.” The man said quietly between labored breaths. “Leave me.”

You paused to consider him, listening to what he had to say.

“Leave me here to die.”

His voice sounded laced in regret.

You furrowed your eyebrows, startled he somehow still able to speak.

And then the realization began to sink in.

He said he wanted to die. This man had a death wish.

Your thoughts took you to a far away place. A place flashed in your mind’s eye of frigid winds, crushing darkness, and feelings of suffocating anguish. Somewhere you thought you could hear the crashing of waves.

A terrible memory that had been buried deep and thought forgotten, but in the ensuing chaos, had resurfaced once again.

You shook your head furiously. _Not here, not now. Now is not the time!_

He watched you silently, eye glazed, observing how you took shallower breaths, face twisting into a myriad of emotions with curiosity.

You fought to find your voice amidst the hurricane of your emotional turmoil.

“Not happening. I won’t allow you to die.”

He groaned again and closed his eye, the strength to continue arguing with you leaving him. What short conversation you had was over. He didn’t speak again after that.

In that moment, Kimahri emerged from the house with the gurney in hand. Once he jogged over to you, joining you by your side, he lined up the gurney parallel with the injured man.

“Help me load him on. Together now.” You ordered.

Between you and Kimahri, your combined strength made it much easier to move the stranger.

On a count of three, you lifted him, grimacing as you loaded him onto the gurney, gripping the handles tightly and lifted together. Kimahri being at the head, took the lead, taking you through the door of your home with the man in tow. You took a moment to shut the front door behind you once inside.

“Let’s take him to my guest bedroom. You know where that is right?”

Kimahri hummed in response and moved deeper into your home.

You styled your guest bedroom closer to a patient examination room. A single bed placed in the center. You changed the sheets of the bed regularly in case an emergency arose. The cupboards near the door were lined with jars filled with supplies ranging from medicinal herbs to more modern medicine like antiseptic. The cabinet below contained surgical instruments for minor surgery. You kept a vase with fresh wildflowers from the meadow on a desk in the corner of the room. You took pride in keeping the room clean, making sure patients felt welcomed.

Once a upon a time, you used to volunteer as a medic for the Crusaders, there was no else better suited in this part of the forest that could save this man’s life than yourself. Bringing him to Bevelle wasn’t even an option, he’d die before he even made it to the halfway point.

When Kimahri and yourself set your impromptu patient on the bed, you turned to the cupboards and cabinets, frantically gathering supplies in your arms, setting them on a raised metal tray beside the bed when you could no longer carry more.

Damn! You forgot the most important thing! How else were you supposed to wash the dirt that clung onto the man’s wounds?

“Kimahri, could you please go to the spring nearby and fetch me a bucket of water?” You asked your friend who shifted uncomfortably in his spot, looking lost on how to assist you.

He nodded, happy to be given a task elsewhere rather than here. He placed the gurney where he found it and took one of your buckets, heading out the front door.

After Kimahri took his leave, you started to mentally prepare yourself for a long, complicated medical procedure ahead of you. This would put all of your medical training to the test, you didn’t even need to examine the patient to reach that conclusion. In all your time serving as a medic in the Crusaders, you’ve never dealt with such a case quite like this. Men brought to your medical bay in this bad shape were dead long before they arrived on your table. You had witnessed men succumb to lesser wounds.

How this man remained alive despite the odds was a mystery. You weren’t the religious type, but you sincerely wanted to believe it was the will of some higher power that he was still alive.

The man hadn’t spoken a word since earlier, appearing to have passed out while you were bringing him in.

You pressed your index and middle finger against the side of his throat, feeling for the carotid artery’s pulse—it was faint, yes, but beating steadily. His breathing was ragged, every breath he took sounded strained. Placing a hand to his forehead, his skin felt hot to the touch, body sweating profusely, he was burning up with a fever. You suspect the fever is caused by an infection.

You began to strip him of his clothing to inspect the entirety of his injuries—patient privacy be damned! You took it upon yourself to save his life and that's exactly what you vowed to do!

The red coat goes first, after undoing the belt and sash around his waist—which are surprisingly intact might you mention. You can’t fucking believe how weighted down with fresh blood it is! You discard the article of clothing into a bucket by your side. The black leather chest armor worn under the man’s coat was shredded to ribbons. You were sure the armor played its part in protecting the man’s vitals.

You made a mental list of clothes you’d have Kimahri pick up in town after this. The man had a lengthy recovery in your care ahead of him, might as well get him some replacement clothes.

His pants and right glove were tattered and torn but still in once piece. You added that too to your mental list of things to do. You were grateful that the Crusaders taught you how to mend and repair clothes, it was a valuable skill to have. You would probably have to get to that tomorrow…

You inspected a bracer that protected his left arm. The ornate plate of metal that was once armor was dented and warped beyond use. You were neither a metallurgist nor a blacksmith, you knew that the bracer and chest armor were beyond saving. Everything from the leather belts to the red coat was mendable.

 _Red haori_ , your mind supplied.

Lastly, you pulled off his boots. Although they had seen better days, the worst wear and tear was scuff marks. Luckily you didn’t have to fix those. You placed them by the bed for him to see when he woke up.

You decide to leave him in the simple _fundoshi_ he wore beneath his clothes to save him the embarrassment of waking up nude in a stranger’s home. You had to protect some form of dignity you supposed.

Once you removed all his clothes, your face drained of its color, gasping at the full extent of his injuries.

Cuts of all sizes littered the expanse of his body. The most severe injury was a grotesque slice across his chest and a deep puncture on the left side of his abdomen. Upon closer examination, you learned that most of the wounds were superficial and no damage was done to his organs, thankfully the puncture on his side had missed them too. He also appeared to have a few fractured ribs with heavy bruising over them. There is bruising on his left shoulder as well, the joint sticking out an odd angle; a dislocated shoulder.

With how extensive his injuries were, you’re certain if blood loss didn’t kill him—sepsis would.

Both his clothes and wounds are heavily caked in debris. That would explain the infection. You guessed he may have gotten to your front yard by dragging his half-dead body from a battlefield. The wounds didn’t appear to have been inflicted by a fiend, all his injuries were focused around his torso, these blows aimed to _kill_. The stranger must have been nimble enough to avoid anything fatal.

You heard Kimahri’s footsteps cross over the threshold to your home, making his way over to you in the guest bedroom. He had to duck under the doorways to fit through as he was too tall to walk comfortably upright. It was almost comical seeing such a fearsome warrior afraid to knock over your decorations. It was much like watching a big clumsy cat avoid breaking anything, lest it get scolded.

He handed you the bucket filled with water you asked for as requested, handing it to you.

A silver glint in your peripherals caught your attention. You spot a large two-handed sword in Kimahri's hands, the sword resembling a katana. You can see your reflection staring back at you from the flat of the blade as he holds it out to you. The weapon is equally beautiful and deadly, it must belong to the injured man. How did you miss seeing it out in the meadow?

“It was outside” Kimahri grumbles.

“Set it over there for me, yeah?” You point to the far side of the room, Kimahri follows your directions, leaning the sword against the wall.

You set the bucket on the floor, careful not to spill.

When you look up and meet Kimahri’s eyes, you can see a question in them.

“You still need Kimahri’s help?”

You were good at guessing how Kimahri felt despite his lack of facial expressions, he was fairly easy to read. You knew healing wasn’t his area of expertise, he probably felt like he would only get in your way.

“It’s alright. I can take over from here, but I need you to do me a favor.” You scribbled down a list of things you needed on a spare notepad you kept nearby, tore the sheet and gave it to Kimahri. “Go on ahead to Bevelle without me and get me the supplies I listed on here.”

He grunted in acknowledgement.

You continue speaking, “We’re probably going to have to postpone our trip for a while. Thank you for the help.”

Kimahri said your name softly, eyes flickering over to the stranger warily.

“You’ll be okay?”

_Oh. He’s concerned about me._

“You underestimate me, Kimahri. There’s no way he can overpower me in the state he’s in. I’ll be fine.” You assured him.

He nodded, satisfied with your answer, seeing himself out as not to delay you any further. Time was of the essence.

Inhaling a deep breath, you shifted your focus to the task at hand.

First things first, you have to stabilize your patient.

You thoroughly washed your hands in the kitchen sink and applied gloves, hurrying back to your patient’s side.

You began by wiping him down of dirt and blood, rinsing him off and allowing his wounds to drain of pus.

You silently thanked whatever deity, force, or Fayth keeping this man alive most of his cuts had not scabbed over, otherwise it would make the healing process more difficult.

Next you disinfected the cuts with antiseptic.

The smaller nicks could heal on their own so they didn’t require sutures, you made sure to dress the few that needed a protective barrier from bacterium. You moved on to the next step, sterilizing a needle by burning it over a Fire spell and retrieved a spool of thin wire, using your stove top to boil the wire and got to work stitching the larger gashes using a perfected cross-stitch method, and finally dressing his wounds in gauze and bandages.

Positioning your hands over his left shoulder, you braced yourself, steeling your nerves for the audible crack that would follow, you cringed as you used force to snap with shoulder back into its socket, the sound unsettling and sending tremors down your spine.

Now you had to address his raging fever. Using a wet blanket to cool him down was out of the question after applying dry sterile dressings.

So you had to improvise by conjuring a small block of ice using a Blizzard spell and wrapped it in a towel to place of his forehead, dabbing his face with a cloth dipped in cool water occasionally as well. You cast a second and third spell for another pair of ice blocks to place over his bruised ribs and discolored shoulder to reduce the inflammation. You placed a hand on his arm and used your mana to pull the moisture from the air around you, muttering a Water spell, he was most likely dehydrated and needed to replenish the water in his body.

Unfortunately, you had to wait until he was awake to feed him.

With nothing to do other than cool him down, you found your eyes wandering to his face.

The cut that ran along the right side of his face, across his eye had long dried before you had brought him inside. You were relieved to learn after washing the blood off his face that he had not lost his eyeball, but judging by the depth of the cut, he would permanently lose sight in that eye.

It was such a shame too. That such a gruesome scar would blemish his handsome features. You were helpless but to admire his beauty, your eyes roving over his face, tracing the light stubble covered his chin, eyes lingering a moment too long on his lips, entranced by their plushness. His black hair reached mid-back, strands fanned out beneath him; you had taken the time to brush the knots out of his hair earlier.

He didn’t look much older than you in fact, you wondered who he was and how he ended up here.

You blushed, scolding yourself for being a creep and staring.

You’ve treated hundreds of patients before this man, you should treat him no differently!

Shaking away the intrusive thoughts, you stayed by his side until his breathing became even and his fever subsided early into the next morning.

When you were sure he would survive the remainder of the night, you went to your bedroom to retrieve spare blankets for the man, returning to throw a sheet and thick quilt over him. You had done all that you could and were ready to leave him to the hands of fate.

You wondered to yourself silently, looking at him one last time, relieved to see his face contort into something more peaceful, remembering what he looked like as he asked you to leave him to die. His expression filled with anguish, with regrets you’ll never understand. What would have happened to him had you not gone outside earlier that day. Would this man be out in the cold, bleeding to death while you slept peacefully, unaware of his passing?

You knew exactly what would happen to this man had you not been there to keep him tethered to this world in a way that didn’t make him an abomination in the eyes of Yevon teachings. His soul would fester on your property, become something unholy overnight. He would become a vengeful spirit, unable to return to the Farplane without the aid of a Summoner, pyreflies warping his soul into a fiend—or worse. If his will is strong enough, he would maintain the image of his human form, becoming an Unsent.

You shivered at the thought, grateful that that wasn’t the case and you had gotten to his aid in time.

Turning from the bedside, you brought your attention to the discarded clothes that belonged to the man that you hastily removed in a rush, picking the bucket that you had thrown them into and emptied it into the hamper of your laundry room.

You had maintained a clean environment as you healed the man, keeping your work area as microbial free as possible. You put your medical supplies back in their respective area and scrubbed the bloody mess away as you went, so you didn’t have to worry about staying up later than you already had.

Snuffing out the various gas lamps placed around your home, you retreated to your room.

You didn’t realize how exhausted, how _absolutely drained_ you felt until you heard your bedroom door click shut behind you.

You always did you best not to skip your meals, but sometimes in this line of work it couldn’t be helped, sometimes it was inevitable putting in long work hours when someone came in as critically injured as the stranger. You didn’t even bother changing into your nightclothes, you were much too tired to put in the effort.

Dragging your feet over to the bed, you hardly had enough energy to remove your shoes. You fell face first into the mattress, sinking into its softness, wrapping your duvet around yourself. Mt. Gagazet and the forest you called your home at its base was typically cold around this time of year after nightfall.

As pain began to seep into your bones, into your sore and weary muscles, your mind went back to the stranger you healed in your guest bedroom.

He reminded you of yourself a few years ago, before your recovery. Defeated, hopeless, and ready to embrace death.

You understood that feeling all too well. You refused to let him give up, to pity himself as you once did.

That’s why you felt so strongly about saving him.

You didn’t want to think what would have happened if you allowed him to die.

You...you didn’t even know his name. If he died, he would remain nameless…

Feeling a numbness, a darkness overcome you, you let fatigue take you under the black waters of blissful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S/O to Vizkopa's "Tonight" for being the only other fic in this tag and being an inspiration for me to write my own fic. Please go check it out if you haven't already!


	2. Stagnant Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man you healed has yet to wake up, but wait—what's this you hear about the defeat of Sin?

The sun's morning rays filtered through the dense canopy of pine trees above, reveling in feeling the warmth through your clothes. A perfect day for laundry, the day started off pretty warm for this time of year but at least everything would be able to air dry before the sun set.

You wanted nothing more than to sleep in, yesterday's fatigue still weighing down on you heavily. Five hours of sleep was plenty right?

You could do this.

It’s not like anyone depended on you.

You didn't have time to rest as you would have liked when there was a stranger in your home teetering on the brink of death. You made sure to check up on him before you headed out. It's not like you were going off too far so if he woke up, you'd be nearby.

When you peeked into your guest bedroom, he was exactly how you left him the night prior. The only indication in the darkness of the room was the even rising and falling of his chest under the sheets. You sighed in relief, _thank the Gods he survived the night,_ you thought to yourself. Figuring, he wasn't going to wake up anytime soon, you checked his vital signs once more, finding both his pulse and respiration rate within a healthy range. With that, you pulled the sheets back and got to work. You tossed the used dressings into the nearest waste bin, reminding yourself to burn the trash when you had a moment. His wounds were healing nicely; you admired your work even though you did it in a frantic rush.

You wiped down the healing lacerations with antiseptic and took your time wiping away the last remnants of sweat and dirt from the fever. Once dry, you reapplied sterile dressings and repeated the Water spell for hydration. He was still pale from blood loss but it was definitely an improvement as opposed to yesterday. His bruises even faded from a horrific black to purple overnight.

You pulled the blankets back over his shoulders and allowed him to rest.

Now you had to take care of yourself. For breakfast you made yourself a bowl of oatmeal, cut up some fruits, and boiled yourself some tea. It would have to do to get you through later. The day was looking busy already.

Exiting your home you went behind your cottage, a series of excited squawking and grunts greeting you.

"Good morning everyone," you responded with a gentle smile. You reached for the Chocobo feed refilling everyone's meal. You had to take a moment to scrub the water trough clean of algae and refill it with clean water.

Duster, your sand colored Chocobo head butted you in an affectionate manner, rubbing his soft feathers into your nose.

"Hey buddy! You ready to start the day?" You held his head between your hands and kissed his beak.

He clucked a reply, waiting for you to open the door to his coup.

Duster was your oldest companion, you were just undergoing your medical training when Captain Lucil offered to help you tame a Chocobo for better mobility on the battlefield. Breeders weren't as readily available back then as they are today so you were given no choice but to wrangle one.

Duster was just a wee fledgling then, hardly adult sized, you had to raise him until he was mature enough to be ridden. You found yourself drawn to him immediately, his unique colored feathers stood out amongst the sea of bright yellow feathered Chocobos, dull in comparison to the other members of his flock.

He was wild and untameable and even after you brought him into the Crusader's compound he had a terrible habit of getting a kick out of throwing you off his back, clucking in such a way that it was mocking like the sound of laughter. It took a lot of effort to get him to trust you enough so you can safely ride him into the battlefield, pulling your comrades out of harm's way and healing those who had fallen.

Duster became more than just a mount, a tool to be used. He began to grow on you, and you to him.

When everything went to shit, when you found your family dead under the debris that used to be your childhood home, you were glad you didn’t bring Duster with you to visit your family that day. He was safely tucked away in the Crusader compound.

When you quit the Crusaders after that, you planned to leave Duster with the Crusaders so he may be useful to a competent warrior, someone who didn’t run away and give up when everything was taken from them. But he was stubborn and didn’t let anyone but you handle him. He even stopped eating in an act of defiance. Captain Lucil almost begged you to take him with you. “He’s upsetting the other Chocobos! He’s too wild to keep him around the others,” she told you.

So here you were two years after the destruction of your hometown and retirement from the Crusaders. Duster was more than happy to come along, enjoying his retirement unlike yourself. When you settled in your current home, you came across a group of Chocobo in the area and wrangled them all up.

You started breeding and raising Chocobos, selling them in the market in Bevelle when the chicks were old enough to fend for themselves. Duster even found himself a nice mate amongst that group you wrangled, eventually giving birth to several of his own.

You were glad he was more successful than you in that department, the damn ridiculous bird.

Even if your love life was non-existent.

Leading Duster out of the coup, you pulled him to the wall behind your home where you kept his saddle and armor on a nail on the wall. Saddling him up and fastening the armor, you went to over to your shed to pull out a cart you used for transporting goods, placing some buckets inside. You tied the handles of the cart on some clasps on Duster’s armor, ready for a short trek.

You put your left foot in the stirrup and threw your right leg over Duster’s body, successfully mounting him with the ease of a professional. Gripping the rope of his harness you ordered him in the direction of the closest spring.

 

* * *

 

A blue, crystalline spring came to view in the distance, behind some dense foliage. This is where you normally came to get water when your supply ran low. It was the cleanest place to get water around here, the closest rivers were dangerously close to Ronso Territory. The spring influenced why you chose the place you did to build your cottage.

But that’s not the only thing you noticed, two humanoid figures stood near the shore of the spring. You didn’t recognize the man crouching near the shore, filling his canteen but you did recognize your neighbor, Vandham, hovering behind the stranger making conversation.

You waved an arm at your neighbor as you approached the pair.

“Yo! Vandham, good to see you’re in good health!” You hopped off of Duster, dismounting and silently hoping you looked cool when you did that. You may be a hermit, but you can at least leave a lasting impression.

Vandham turned to greet you, bowing deeply, in a customary Yevon prayer fashion paying his respects to your service in the Crusaders. You blushed at that, rubbing the back of your neck.

Man, even away from civilization your past wouldn’t leave you, huh?

The stranger below tilted his head quizzically.

A wide grin broke out across Vandham’s face, “Nice to see you too! How’s Spira’s greatest healer doing?”

Now you really were bashful, goddammit. You hummed, “Mm, just out on errands, nothing special. How’s that hip doing?”

Vandham was actually a patient of yours. He was a Guardian to a Summoner in his youth. He was deeply devoted to his charge, very much so that he fell in love with her. He almost gave his life saving hers. He broke his hip protecting her, but in the end lived to tell the tale. His Summoner reciprocated his feelings, deciding to quit her pilgrimage, and marry him. They lived happily after that. He recovered but became widowed after thirty years of a fulfilling marriage. Like you, he fled into the wilderness to escape his grief.

You were happy for him, yeah but you couldn’t help but feel kinda bitter he knew a happiness that you would never know.

“Never felt better! The tea you prescribed me is helping with the pain I get when the temperature drops! Speaking of which, I’ll come by and pick up some more next week so have it ready by then, ya hear?”

 _Fuck, great._ You frowned. _Work on top of more work. You should have slept in._

A rational part of you nagged that you were being irresponsible, people needed your help. That’s why you chose to be a medic!

Vandham gestured over to the stranger watching you have idle chit chat with your neighbor with a curious light in his eyes. “You got a minute, actually? Horosha here is a traveler. Just came from Bevelle. He was just telling me some good news, I think you’d wanna hear this!”

You forced a smile, clenching your teeth, “Sure! I got time.” Your brow twitched irritably.

If the two men noticed your frustration, they made no point to acknowledge it.

Horosha, the stranger apparently, stood from the bank of the spring, waving his arms excitedly, “A new Calm is upon us! Sin has been defeated!”

Both you and Vandham exchanged looks, a look of bewilderment as clear as day on your faces.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your excitement growing. “How long ago did this happen?” you directed the question at Horosha.

He was beyond ecstatic to deliver the news to a pair of recluses who hadn’t heard; you imagined if he was a dog, his tail would be wagging wildly. His arm movements growing overwrought even still, “A week ago as of tomorrow! Praise be to Yevon! There is to be a grand celebration thrown in Bevelle at the end of the month! Everyone in Spira is invited to attend.”

But once the news, truly sunk in, Vandham’s face grew dark, his frown lines appearing deeper than usual, “Who was the poor soul who gave their life up for the rest of us?”

At that Horosha fidgeted uncomfortably with the sudden darkening of the subject. Even you couldn’t help feeling somber, sacrifices were made for the greater good after all.

“High Summoner Braska of Bevelle. They say he was a highly respected man. Left behind a daughter. Supposedly his wife perished to Sin’s judgement,” Horosha said.

You hadn’t witnessed a Calm since you were a child, it was wonderful news, yes, but you couldn’t help but wonder what other casualties were there.

You spoke up after a long pause of silence, “And his Guardians? What of them?”

Horosha let out a deep sigh, crossing his arms across his chest, “Missing or dead. No one knows for sure. But if they were alive they would have emerged from Zanarkand Ruins by now, they’re heroes after all. Who wouldn’t want to be praised by all of Spira?”

Heroes, huh? A fancy title that would never belong to you…

But what was the point of a fancy title if you were dead? Gods, you were being incredibly ridiculous right now. Maybe that’s why you were a cowardly fool, running from danger, not toward it. Those men, they were brave, they were valiant. They stood by their Summoner until the very end.

They accomplished what you only dreamed of, while you fled at the first chance you could when it became too much for you.

You were thankful when Vandham’s words pulled you out of your depressing spiral of regrets.

“Did you catch their names by any chance?”

Horosha looked away, clearly trying to recall a far away memory, “I believe their names were Sir Jecht and Sir Aaron.”

Aaron? What a very ordinary name. Not the name of someone honored as a hero of Spira. But what did you know?

You almost missed the part where Horosha said he was on his way to Zanarkand Ruins to witness the carnage left by Braska’s final battle, snickering when he mentioned sneaking into Ronso Territory without permission from the Ronso Tribe Leader. A mischievous glint in his eye. At some point you tuned out the conversation and excused yourself.

After a half-assed goodbye, you bid farewell to the two men, promising to have Vandham's tea leaves ready next week.

Filling your buckets to the brim, you remounted Duster and went on your way.

 

* * *

 

Before you knew it, three whole days had passed in a blur since you had brought the mystery man into your home. You went about your daily schedule as usual, consisting of hunting game for food, gathering herbs, and tending to your Chocobos.

The man that collapsed in the meadow still hadn’t woken but that gave you the time to wash and repair his clothes. You promptly washed and hung his clothes to dry after your run-in with Vandham and Horosha. This morning you added the final finishing touches, not a loose thread to be found. You were a perfectionist in your work. It had to be perfect or you didn’t bother with the task in the first place. You fixed up his clothes when you weren’t changing out his bandages, keeping his sutures tidy, and icing his bruises.

Kimahri had came to deliver the supplies you asked him to pick up for you yesterday afternoon. While he was here, he had his cup of tea with you, sharing a box of fresh pastries he had obtained from Bevelle.

That big blue fuzzball was sweeter than you originally thought. Though, you would never tell that to his face lest his kindness stop there.

Kimahri came to inquire if the man had been doing okay and if he had he woken up.

You shook your head and let out a big sigh, “No, he hasn’t actually. At this point, I don’t know if he’ll ever wake up. I’m doing everything I can...really it's up to him now…”

Kimahri put a gentle hand on your shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

You placed your hand over his, silently hoping your efforts weren’t in vain.

You didn’t even want to think what would you do if he didn't wake up from his coma.

The Ronso went home after that.

 

* * *

 

The sun was just about to set, casting its long shadows across the land. The last rays of the day barely breaching over the tops of the trees. You heard Duster crow from outside of the house, announcing the end of another day. You had already turned on your gas lamps before it got completely dark.

A pot of stew simmering on your stove top. After this, you were going to eat dinner.

You were hovering over the unconscious man in your guest bedroom, studying the angry red welts across his torso. The blanket was covering him from the waist down, most of the more prominent injures were above that anyways. The lacerations were showing signs of finally mending together, sealing themselves shut from foreign bodies. He was in the clear from getting another nasty infection.

You had avoided doing this up until this point, casting Cure and any of it’s more advanced variations took a lot out of you. You weren’t a Mage or a Summoner. You had some mana reserves but your specialty was old fashioned healing.

Of course this meant you had to balance that usefulness with something else.

You couldn’t be a simple medic—otherwise you’d be nothing more than a sitting duck.

You had to be a warrior too.

Pressing your open palm on the center of the man’s chest, careful not to apply too much pressure, you began channeling your mana into your hand. Feeling the mana flow through you, you murmured the correct incantation in a dead language, down to the last accent, every single word perfectly enunciated. You saw the bright green light pooling at your fingertips, casting the whole room in a comforting minty glow.

You surrendered yourself to the wonderful feeling of warmth envelope you, allowing yourself to close your eyes.

In that vulnerable moment of focus, a rough hand wrapped around your upper arm, just above your elbow, and yanked you closer.

Your eyes shot open, panicked, you used what strength you didn’t use healing this man to desperately break yourself free.

It was futile, how did a person who was on the verge of death a few days ago have such an iron grip?

Looking down at him, meeting the same penetrating glare from the other day, except this time his right eye wasn’t obstructed with dried blood, forcing it closed. His right pale blue eye unnerved you, but his left one—it was glazed like he was seeing _through_ you.

“You’re hurting me..,” you whimpered, trying to reason with him.

Using your other arm, you put all your weight onto his bruised left shoulder. He hissed at that and let you go.

Finally regaining control of your legs, you backed up until your back hit the doorframe of the bedroom, clutching your arm.

That’s when he saw you...really saw you, his single brown eye focusing on you.

He shot up upright from the mattress, backing up to the headboard of the bed, equally as startled as you probably looked.

When he tried to open his mouth, what came out was a garbled mess, his voice weak from disuse.

Straightening yourself out, you turned and exited the room, muttering a soft, “I’ll be right back.”

You emerged through the door with a glass of water, shoving it into the man’s hands but keeping your distance. You hands tense at your sides.

He drank the glass greedily, downing it in three gulps. Once setting it on the nightstand he faced you, disbelief in his eyes.

“Where am I?” his voice still hoarse.

“I found you outside of here, bleeding out on my front yard.”

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, smoothing it down, but he was anything but calm. Looking everywhere but you.

He whispered nearly inaudible, but deafening in the absolute silence of the room.

“...How long ago was Sin defeated?”

Your eyes widen, your mouth fell agape. The pieces were falling together. _Could he be…?_

“Ten days ago.”

He only grew more agitated with your response. He looked to be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Debating whether you wanted to get your answers or let him process everything up until now, you decided to ask him anyways.

“Are you—”

“Leave.”

His sharp voice cut your question off.

“Pardon me?”

His voice was quieter now, anger rolling off of him in waves, “Foolish girl, why did you save me?” Burying his face in his hands, pushing the heel of his palms into his eyes aggressively, he raised his voice when he looked back up at you. “You should have left me out there to die!”

Something snapped in you just then, “And I told you, asshole, that wasn’t going to happen! I _saved_ you! Can’t you see that?”

He scoffed. Now that he had healed up some, he wasn’t your vulnerable, bedridden patient. He wasn’t the man you prayed for every night to wake up soon. These were his true colors.

With a speed that even you weren’t expecting, he tossed the sheets aside, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and rose to his full height, easily towering over you. He attempted to intimidate you into submission.

Well you weren’t having that.

You waited patiently for the right opportunity until he got into your personal space, grabbing him by the arm, pivoting your stance to face away from him and pulled his arm over your shoulder. Catching him completely off guard, he probably wasn’t expecting a medic to be this fast. Pushing your backside against his front, you used your hip to lift his whole body off the ground and flipped him through the air, slamming him onto his back. You exploited the moment he got the wind knocked out of him, using the opportunity to get on top of him, wrapping your legs around him and straddled his waist, effectively pinning him beneath you; you held both his arms over his head.

You pulled one of your daggers free from the holster hidden on your thigh, pressing it against the skin of his throat.

The look on his face when he realized the position he was in was fucking priceless! You ate that shit up!

Shit actually, you hoped he didn’t tear his stitches open…

You smirked, looking at him from down your nose. He blinked a few times stupidly.

“Look buddy, I don’t care who you think you are. You, are by far, the worst fucking patient I’ve ever had the pleasure of treating. Now, I’ve slaved away the last few days, making sure I didn’t have to drag off your rotten corpse to bury in a ditch. I was NOT in the mood to find a summoner to send your ungrateful ass to the Farplane—I mean, if you even deserve that. I was even nice enough to mend your clothes. So quit being such a pain in the ass and get dressed. We’re having dinner."

You gestured to the dresser on the far side of the room with your dagger, "Your clothes are in there, plus anything else you'll need during your stay here."

Now it was your turn to be surprised. You gave the man your harshest glare when you felt his chest rumble with laughter between your thighs. His face softened, morphing into a small smile. Your heartbeat quickened, that was the first time you ever saw him make such a delightful expression.

"Auron."

"Huh?" _God, that sounded so dumb coming out of your mouth after your little battle of dominance._

"My name."

"Oh." _Way to go._

You pushed yourself off of him and onto your feet, not bothering to help him up. Stomping your way over to the doorway, throwing one last pointed glare over your shoulder. You brushed a stray lock of your hair behind your ear; it must have gotten loose during the struggle.

"Well, Auron. It’s a pleasure to meet you," the venom in your voice positively dripped with sarcasm.

With an angry huff, you walked out of the room and slammed the door behind you.

_Jackass._


	3. Meeting Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The initial meeting with Auron didn't go so well...what now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicide attempt and lots of negative feelings.

The fragrant aroma of tea leaves filled the space within your home, instantly relaxing you as the scent reached your nostrils. You brought out your favorite tea set to serve tea in for dinner tonight, setting two steaming cups of tea on the dinner table.

The interior of your home had a very rustic feel, Auron decided, trying to learn something about you through examining your home. Most of the furniture was made out of wood, finished with varnish, not a speck of dust on them. There were a few paintings of flowers on the wall, hand painted it seemed. Any decorations were scattered and sparse, the most cluttered thing he noticed was a hutch cabinet nearly bursting with expensive looking porcelain tableware, so pristine he wondered if you had ever used them, most likely for decorative purposes than anything.

Nothing really stood out, or out of the ordinary, or even hinting you were someone of importance.

He made his way over to your dining room, seeing that the table was already set when he entered, he could see you in the kitchen from where he stood, your back facing him.

When you told had him that you fixed his clothes, he thought you meant merely stitch the holes shut, he didn’t think you expertly weaved the fibers back together.

Your skill set you had demonstrated thus far was strange. Just who are you exactly?

He had gone through the dresser you pointed out to him, his armor pieces nowhere to be found. He’d have to ask for their whereabouts later. For now, he tossed on a loose black tank top, made of pure cotton to replace his chest armor.

If you were fast enough to catch him off guard earlier, then he didn’t have to worry about needing his armor, he doubt intruders would raid your home.

He felt himself breath a sigh of relief when he spotted his katana by the bed where he awoke, had he known where it was to begin with, you wouldn’t have gotten the jump on him—injured or not.

The only thing he had to lose, was his already wounded pride.

What he later found out while he was dressing was the lack of mobility in his left arm, it was incredibly difficult to get the shirt over his head, he would rather struggle than call you for help. He settled on wearing his haori like he normally would—half-worn with a sleeve behind him, using the space between his clothing to keep his left arm in place like a sling.

He pulled an empty chair from out under the table and took a seat.

A bowl of lemongrass beef stew with noodles sat in front of him, taunting him with it's tantalizing scent.

He didn't realize how hungry he was until he could smell the food you cooked. When was the last time he ate?

As soon as he was settled you came bouncing out of the kitchen with a fresh kettle of tea in one hand and a bread basket in the other. Rounding the table, you quietly took your seat across from him.

You both ate in total silence, you were unable to come up with a comfortable subject to talk about. The initial meeting was heavy on your mind.

It was awkward to say the least.

Auron on the other hand, didn't notice the lack of conversation.

He enjoyed the meal. He couldn't recall the last time he had home-cooked food. He had been on the road with Braska and Jecht for a while, most of the time they ate at inns and restaurants where they stayed. If money was tight, they ate what they could on the road, cooking supplies and seasoning was much too heavy to carry in their light packs.

He didn't even realize he unconsciously reached to pour himself a second serving of tea.

"I'll do it!" You swatted his hand away, getting up to pour the tea yourself.

He was surprised at your offer, but he didn't object.

Once you sat back down, you rested your hand in your chin and gave him a lopsided grin.

"I'm glad you like the tea. It's a special brew I made."

"Really," he said, feigning interest.

"Yeah!" The excitement returning to your voice. "It's brewed using regurgitated gysahl greens my Chocobos feed their chicks. I've heard the process is cleaner than rinsing tea leaves."

At that, he spit out the tea he was lightly sipping just a moment ago, slamming the cup on the table, throwing you a fierce glare that would make the most seasoned Crusaders piss themselves.

His reaction was better than you imagined! You doubled over in laughter, nearly falling out of your seat, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. "Haha! You actually believed that? I was only kidding!"

He dabbed himself dry with a linen you handed him. With an icy voice he said, "I don't appreciate the joke."

"Lighten up. I said I was kidding. It's actually just ginger root, it lessens pain."

He refilled his teacup cup once more, completely ignoring what you said, "I'm going to ask you again. Where are we exactly?"

You took a big bite out of a bread roll, prolonging the time he had to wait for your answer.

"My cottage."

"Obviously."

"Fine, whatever. You're no fun." You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms, slouching into your seat. "Beyond the Calm Lands, close to Mt. Gagazet. The beach isn't very far from here, so we’re close to the western coast. The closest city is Bevelle, but that's an entire day's worth of a walk from here. Half on a Chocobo."

He let out a quiet grunt, seemingly disappearing into his thoughts. He stared deeply into his tea, as if it held all the answers. A scowl forming on his face.

Interrupting his thoughts, you leaned forward, placing an elbow on the table. "You don't suppose you know how you got here?"

Of course he knew, but he didn't care to tell you.

"Quite frankly, that's none of your business."

Now it was your turn to scowl. "It is my business, when I have no idea what kind of person I dragged into my home. How do I know you're not a brigand?"

"That's on you. Didn't your parents teach you not to bring strange men home?" he deadpanned.

_What an ass! But fuck, he wasn't wrong._

"I saved you, you ingrate."

"Did I ask you to?"

A vein in your forehead twitched. This guy was wearing your nerves real quick. "You're right. Guess it is my fault. Answer me this though in exchange for answering your question. Are you that hero I've heard of? The one who defeated Sin?"

"I don't recall ever calling myself a hero."

You refused to let him see you worked up.

_Dammit, this guy is annoying!_

"You're not answering the question."

"What if I am? Does it make a difference?"

"No, I suppose it doesn't. It doesn't matter if you've been bestowed a title, you’re still a jerk."

He paused to look at you, ignoring the latter. "What title?"

"Sir Auron. That's what I heard you addressed as for completing the pilgrimage."

"I didn't do it for titles. Lord Braska, he—" Auron almost made the mistake of telling you what had transpired.

Your scowl softened into something gentler.

Understanding his hesitation, you asked in a small voice, "The Summoner and the other Guardian are they—"

"Dead."

You looked away, looking anywhere but him, fidgeting in your seat

Fuck, you fucked up. It was obviously a sore subject why were you so persistent in getting answers out of him?

You knew of loss, of regret. And yet, this had just happened days ago. The wounds of failure still fresh.

You had to apologize.

"Auron—"

His chair clattered back, you jumped, the abrupt sound startling you.

Oh yeah, you screwed up. You ticked him off with your probing.

"Enough. This discussion is over."

With the swiftness you didn't expect an injured person to have, he turned on his heel, retreating into the guest bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Well, that went well.

 _I mean, what did I expect? That he was going to give me his entire biography within hours of meeting him?_ You chuckled depreciatively, mostly at yourself. You were a fool. _Stupid!_

Pushing your chair back, you got up and started to pick up the tableware off the table and place in the kitchen sink. Wiping the table clean first, you washed the plates, utensils, and cups off after.

You had asked those questions because you were genuinely curious about him—you wanted to get to know him. You didn’t understand why he was so cold toward you—so elusive, rude even. Completely oblivious to the effort you put in to keep him alive.

But he was right. You were nothing but a stranger to him, you had no ties to him, you were nothing. So, why?

You decided to save his life out of the kindness of your heart—an act of goodwill—it’s not like he owed you anything, there was no debt to be paid, no need for an explanation.

It really was none of your fucking business, after all.

So, when did you get so attached to him?

Still, you felt like you owed him an apology. But would he accept it? Would he be okay starting over on a better note?

 

* * *

 

That’s how you found yourself standing in front of his door an hour later, blankets in one arm. You wanted to have a valid excuse to bother him at this hour. The nights out in the middle of nowhere were colder than the city. You wanted to be a good host. Atleast, that's what you told yourself to make you feel better about acting like a brat in front of him.

You raised a hand to knock but hesitated.

What if he shooed you away again?

No, you couldn’t run anymore. You told yourself it was the right thing to do, so you were damn well going through with this!

Taking a deep breath, you finally rapped your knuckles against the wood of the door.

“Auron? May I come in?”

Silence. Not a sound came from the other side of the door.

Maybe he had already gone to sleep. It was still somewhat early but perhaps he was one of those early-to-bed-early-to-rise kind of people.

You knocked again, “Auron, are you still awake? Can we talk maybe?”

Still nothing. At this point you were starting to feel a little anxious. Was he ignoring you on purpose so you’d leave him alone? You waited a little longer, hoping you’d hear him—snoring, mumbling, telling you to kindly fuck off—anything.

But nothing came.

You knocked once more, “Auron? I promise I won’t invade your privacy again, may I please come in?

Your mind was starting to make up unlikely scenarios. An injured person couldn’t make it very far, right? Would he run off on you?

You noticed earlier he had taken an unusually long amount of time getting ready for dinner. You had been so angry that he would dare try to threaten you, you had forgotten to ask him if he needed help getting dressed. The bruising on his shoulder was still horrifically vivid in color, you feared it might be broken and you failed to diagnose that.

The area around Mt. Gagazet was incredibly dangerous at after the sun set. He wouldn’t dare attempt to disappear into the night in his condition, would he? He couldn’t be that ballsy…

Practically throwing yourself against the door, you turned the doorknob in a frenzy, finding it unlocked.

“Auron, look I’m sorry I just want to—”

Empty. The lights were off and the bed was vacant. _But I saw him come in here, where else could he have gone?_

A gust of wind lifted the curtains on the window on the wall of the far side of the room.

_The window…_

Your heart sunk as the sudden realization struck your whole body, your knees nearly buckled, your legs threatened to give out beneath you.

_No…_

You whipped your head back to bed.

_His katana is gone._

Turning wildly, you sprinted out of his room, toward your bedroom, you tossed the blankets over a chair and reached for your daggers, strapping the holster around your thighs under your nightgown. You grabbed the first coat you saw, throwing it on hastily. You didn’t even lock the front door of your house, slamming it shut behind you as you made your way out, nearly breaking it off the hinges. You couldn’t be bothered to care right now. You had to find Auron!

You skidded to a halt a few feet from where you found him lying on the grass a few days ago. Willing your feet to stop before running aimlessly without thinking.

You thought back to his insistence to know where was your cottage, needing to calibrate his sense of direction.

_If I wanted to make a quick getaway, where would I go?_

A light in your head when off.

_Shit, shit, shit!_

You took off into the cover of trees, dodging bushes, ducking under branches, and side stepping rocks.

You willed your feet to push the strength in your legs to their limit, your thighs aching not used to the exercise. You were sure your boots were covered in mud by now. Your lungs burned from insufficient oxygen.

If your intuition was right, he would be there!

 

* * *

 

Your steps slowed down as the sound of crashing waves reached your ears, much like that day two years ago...

The smell of sea breeze brought up memories you would rather forget. The images you forced down into the deepest recesses, flashed through your mind. Images of splintered boardwalk, swollen, lifeless bodies floating in the sea, amongst the remains of the town you once knew—where you shared memories with those same people who were now dead. Their faces horrified in a frozen shock, their eyes, upturned to the heavens where Sin had disappeared off to, leaving destruction in its wake.

You shut your eyes, gritting your teeth until your jaw hurt, the memories dissipating but twisted and shifted into something else.

You remembered standing over the edge of a steep, rocky cliff. The black, churning water below, jagged rocks jutting skyward, promising a swift death. You hair whipped wildly behind you, your face sticky with tears or sea spray, you didn’t know. You remember your resolve wavering, as pale blue eyes watched your form, a large hand held out towards you. A velvety voice beckoned you back to safety, away from the danger below you, you eventually caved. A warm embrace…

_No!_

This was NOT the time to be paralyzed, lost in the memories of your own trauma!

You took one step forward, and then another, fighting off your panic with all your might. You breathed deep and slow, evening your heartbeat. Taking methodical steps once you found your composure, you didn’t want him hearing you approaching, didn’t want him taking action before you got there.

Eventually, grass became sand as you broke through the line of trees, obscuring you in darkness. You kept your head low, hiding in the dense shrubbery, thankful he hadn’t heard you yet. He was a sharp man, you couldn’t risk being anything less than silent.

You’d had finally caught sight of him, of his build you had gotten familiar with the last few days—it belonged to him, to Auron.

He stood there, like you knew he would, tall and unwavering, waist deep in the icy waters of the beach, not a trace of any discomfort to be found. The full moon high in the sky allowed you the light necessary to see, otherwise it would be pitch black.

His katana was slung over the shoulder of his right arm. He couldn’t be enjoying the serenity of the shore, his facial expression thoughtful behind a mask of indifference.

That’s when you noticed his stance, his head bowed respectfully, you watched silently as he shrugged his haori off his shoulders, letting it daggle loosely around him, adjusting his array of belts lower on his hips.

You held your breath as you watched from afar, your gut churning, your recent meal lodged in your throat. Your blood flow thundered in your ears, peripherals blackening, eyes seeing nothing else but the man in front on you.

_No..._

This was it.

_It would have been easier to accept it if he just ran off on you._

He was going to do it.

_But not this._

He had accepted this.

_You could not allow him to do this._

Had it coming.

_Wasn't even an option._

This was his resolve.

_Move, Y/N! Move!_

He had decided to go through with, he was—he was going to fucking kill himself—

He raised his katana, using both arms to position it, hovering dangerously close to his abdomen, poised and ready to slice himself open...

_Harakiri…_

_No, no, no!_

You ran before you knew what were you going to do to stop him, before you had time process what was happening, sprinting the last stretch between the tree line and the edge of the water—you not dared to call out to him, your emotions at their ultimate high—you were angry, scared, worried...

Many questions ran through you head— _why was he so set on dying? You saved him, he had another chance at life! Why was he so determined to throw it all away? After all your effort, after everything you had done for him? Why was he not content to just live on? Why, why, why?_

You had the answer to all these questions. You were once the same way—you found no other solution to your grief other than taking your own life. Your Crusaders, ask you the same questions, blamed you, faulted you, reprimanded you, belittled you for your way of thinking. You remember their words so clearly—harsh, cold and unfeeling. They made you feel worse than you already did, pushing you over the edge again, made you consider the same solution—a vicious cycle of pain, anguish, suffering, and pressure. Never stopping to understand you or comfort you in your time of need.

After the passing of your family, you didn’t care for people. But he—he was a lot like you. He had lost it all and with no way out—he we was much like you. His pained expression vivid in your mind.

You understood now. When that random passerby—that man, the Summoner had saved you that day at the cliff, overlooking your hometown. He didn’t need a reason then and neither do you now. But you understood now—you cared about the man you saved. You weren’t doing this for your sake—for your peace of mind. But because you wanted to—Auron deserved another chance.

You cared for Auron.

Pulling a dagger out, from behind him, you reached around him shoving the dagger between the space separating his katana and abdomen, successfully parrying the blow. He was thrown off guard from your sudden appearance, you forced strength into your arm, knocking the katana out of his hand. You used your other arm to wrap around his midsection and threw all your weight onto him, dragging him into the water.

Time ceased in that moment, slowing down to a crawl but you felt like you sped up. You both tumbled, with him ending up flipped, falling back first into the water, and with you above him. The look of genuine surprise in his expression, but when his one eye met you, realized it was you, his face warped into a look of frustration. You had gotten the jump him not once, but twice! Clearly he had underestimated you.

The cold water of the beach engulfed your body, knocking the air out of your lungs, you tried to breathe, but only gulped mouthfuls of salt water, leaving you a sputtering, coughing mess. He recovered himself much quicker, the waves pushed you both to shore until his backside touched the sand, gentle waves lapped at his sides, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist as if the mere action would protect him from himself, your chest flush with his.

He didn’t move from beneath you, didn’t attempt to push you off of him in anger. He simply laid there, unmoving, looking up to you in bewilderment.

So you made the first move, lifting your body somewhat so you can look at him straight in the eye. You opened your mouth to say, “Why?”

He blinked when he saw tears began to fall freely from your eyes, streaking down your face.

“My master, Lord Braska is dead. A Guardian is nothing without their Summoner.“ His voice was so empty, so devoid of emotion. How could he be so calm while you were a wreck? “I have no reason to keep living.”

“That isn’t true! The High Summoner sacrificed himself to bring the Calm, I’m sure he wanted you to live on.”

He scoffed, his smile dry.

“You know nothing, foolish girl.”

He still wasn't letting you in! It was all so frustrating!

You huffed.

“Then help me understand. Tell me. I can’t help you if I don’t know a thing about you, Auron.”

He hated everything about you; your persistence, your voice, the emotions you were purposely holding back in favor of focusing on him, your existence in his life. “Why would you want to help a broken man like me?”

“Because I care about you, Auron!”

The penny dropped.

He sighed. "You really are a fool."

Such a simple answer, it was admirable of you actually. He felt so undeserving of your feelings, of your sentiment. Even so, you persisted, chasing him to his grave, pulling him to safety when he was beginning to feel the chilling touch of death. He admired how blunt you were with your words, regardless of how he felt.

He couldn’t help but think you’d fit right in as a Guardian alongside Jecht and himself.

He chuckled.

You weren’t expecting that reaction, you were expecting him to push you away, to be disgusted by you.

Instead, raising his torso from the water, he sat up and pulled you into his lap, having you straddle his thighs, and pressed your head into his chest, embracing you. The action startled you, now you weren’t expecting this at all. You weren’t used to this kind of human touch so you froze. The whole thing was awkward for you, but if it meant he was finally opening up, you would endure. His body felt warm and safe and that's all that mattered.

He whispered, his voice husky in your ear.

“As you wish.”

The hair at the back of your neck stood up when you felt his warm breath tickle your neck. You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you kept your mouth shut.

He let out a loud exhale.

Auron hated these thoughts that plagued him, the doubt that wouldn’t leave him. He was tired. He didn’t even remember how he made it out alive out of the final temple. He didn’t remember anything after his battle with Yunalesca, apparently you found him three days after the fight with Sin. His mind so clouded with anger, with rage, his fight with Yunalesca was hazy at most.

He remembered stumbling, falling and getting back up, warmth seeping through his injuries as his life bled out on the ground. He was sure he wasn’t going to make it and that was fine to him, soon he would be by Braska’s side once more. Someone else would raise arms against Jecht-Sin in ten years, his worries would be put to rest. He had no family to return to, no heir to inherit his name. Who would miss him?

He felt it wasn’t too much to ask for, he craved the release of death...but then you appeared before him. An angel of mercy offering him salvation. A complete stranger to him, one who would go as far to stop him from making the ultimate mistake. You opened your home to him, nursed him to health, were patient as he sorted out the events of the last few days. What did he do to deserve your kindness?

He didn't release you, even after he started speaking and the sobs that wracked your body became occasional hiccups.

You asked about him, so he told you. He told you how he met Braska and Jecht, how they were a ragtag bunch of outcasts, with the goal of helping the greater good. How Braska married an Al-Bhed woman, eloped, and gave birth to a half breed daughter. How Jecht was from a Zanarkand that only existed via the dreams of the Fayth, leaving behind a wife and his son in a place he could never return to. He told you how he was once a Warrior Monk, promising with talent and gifted; and how he had fallen, disgraced because he refused to marry the daughter of a High Priest. You stiffened at that, but didn’t comment, letting him continue.

He told you about his pilgrimage and the scrutiny his group faced, but regardless they trekked forward. Eventually telling you how Jecht volunteered to become the final aeon, claiming that he couldn’t return to his Dream Zanarkand, which made him the best candidate. Braska refused to let Auron become the final aeon. With Sin defeated, Braska ceased to be, returning to the Farplane and virtually Jecht was dead too, or soon he would be. There was no chance of Jecht ever regaining his humanity.

Auron told you, in blinded rage he returned to the final temple and attacked Yunalesca in anger. How Auron found out Braska and Jecht needlessly gave their lives, their efforts futile in the end, when there was another way to killing Sin forever without needing to sacrifice anyone. Auron had every right to hate Yunalesca for withholding the truth to further her own selfish agenda from his group and every Summoner and Guardian before him.

You have yet to tell Auron, but the truth was Yevon had let you down too. You had abandoned it's teachings like he, uncaring what others thought about you. The sting of accusations too painful, you turned your back on Yevon. You hoped someday you can open up to him too.

Eventually, he let go of you and you scooted back so you could see him fully.

He uncharacteristically raised a hand to your face, wiping the tears from your eyes with a gentleness you didn't know he was capable of.

He didn’t understand why it made his chest clench when he saw you shed tears over him. It made him hate himself for pushing you to your limits.

"Braska and Jecht, they entrusted me to look after their children, made me promise I'd be the father figure they didn't get to grow up with."

You placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

"Thank you for sharing with me, Auron…"

Auron observed you, noting your voice sounded tired. The adrenaline that fueled you earlier was leading you to a crash. It was no wonder you weren't complaining about being partially submerged in chilly seawater, the cold had yet to seep into your body. Your coat was soaking wet, and your thin nightgown did little to preserve your warmth. It clung to your body, completely transparent in the right places, he noticed you weren't wearing a bra—

Abruptly, he pried you off of him, holding your shoulders, putting more distance between you and himself. Whipping his head away, refusing to look at you, he changed the subject.

"You...you're a fool, you know. For bringing someone like me into your home, that, in addition to healing me. You're right. What if I was a brigand? What would you do then?"

You must have been too tired to notice his change of mood.

The defeated look on your face made him regret his choice of words. What was wrong with him? Normally, he spoke the truth without regard for anyone's feelings. Why were you any different?

Your voice was soft, gentle. "I'm glad that I found you when I did...a little later and there would've been nothing I can do. When...when I saw you lying there, when you asked me to leave you alone. I saw myself from long ago. Waiting for death, much like you."

Your hands still on him began to glow green, your mouth moved too fast, the words that followed in a different language. Your head slouched forward and your body finally gave out, falling face first. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around you to catch you before you fell, your head hitting his shoulder. His body felt less exhausted, less drained—everything hurt less after you cast Curaga with your remaining strength.

The last words you said to him before sleep overtook you were, "I was given a second chance, so, so should you...won't you please stay, Auron?"

Your eyelids fell shut and your body became limp in his arms.

He understood now, your refusal to let him die. You too had attempted suicide some unknown amount of time ago. You understood what he went through, his feelings of despair. Because you saw yourself in him, it all made sense now.

He looked down at you, sleeping peacefully against him. He steeled his fluttering heart, the situation was already so confusing and now you were a part of it. He thought his story was over, yet here you were proving him wrong in such a short span of a few days. He thought back to your last words, you had asked him to stay.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea, to dissolve into hiding here, with you. He didn't know how he would be received when he returned to civilization. He was an outcast, joining Braska's pilgrimage as his Guardian solely because he felt it was the right thing to do. If he couldn't serve Yevon as a Warrior Monk, then would rid Spira of the plague known as Sin another way.

You had called him a hero, honored with the title "Sir."

He certainly didn't feel heroic. Especially after failing to save the lives of his closest friends. Already he felt resentment toward the title, it felt undeserving to someone like him.

He removed his haori, wrapping it around your shoulders, he didn't want you catching a cold, he was used to camping out, used to withstanding cold nights. He placed an arm behind your back and the other under your knees, lifting you, you were featherweight in his arms with his rejuvenated strength, thanks to you.

Feeling the sand crunch beneath his heavy boots, he begins the walk back your home.

 _Our home,_ he muses.

He had a lot of thinking to do ahead of him.


	4. Lasting Daze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up in your home after stopping Auron...but where did he go?

You awoke with a violent jerk, the upper half of your body jolted off your mattress, skewing your white duvet and pillows in all directions around you. Your mind hazy with the last remnants of sleep, you found yourself in your room, in your bed. The blinds were closed, which was strange, you normally slept with them open, preferring the warmth of the day’s heat to gradually wake you. The lack of light made it difficult to figure out what time it was.

You peeled the sheets off of you, stretching your sore muscles, your joints popping in the right places. You were still in your nightgown from last night, still sticky and partially soggy from the saltwater.

_Saltwater? Ugh, I feel so gross._

In an instant it hit you, the events of yesterday returning to you. You swung your legs off the edge of your bed, getting lightheaded and dizzy from the lack of blood flow, you stumbled but caught yourself by holding onto the bed’s frame. You found your boots by the bed, yanking them on and nearly flew out of your room, running to Auron’s room.

Opening the door, you found the bed neatly made and the window was closed shut, an echo similar to last night. You stepped in, finding his katana set on the desk by the vase. Approaching it you ran your fingers lightly down the flat of the blade, eyeing its beautifully crafted golden embellishments on its side.

The cottage was eerily quiet, listening for anything different from usual, hearing nothing you figured he wasn't within the house. Auron left his weapon in his room, meaning he was still somewhere on your property. Perhaps outside?

You walked out into the hall leading to outside, turning the door knob of the front door.

Feelings of worry, of fear still haunted you. Worry that he would be pushed to the edge again. Fear he would still abandon you even after revealing your true feelings. You pushed those doubts out of your mind, there was no way! If he was polite enough to carry you home and tuck you in, you sincerely wanted to believe he had a change of heart. You wanted to believe there was a kind man behind his icy exterior.

When you took a look outside, the sun was still somewhat low in the sky, figuring it was still before noon.

You found him but a few feet away from your house, his broad back facing you, his dark, black hair cascaded down his shoulders in wet, inky strands; he must have helped himself to your shower. He was basking in the golden radiance of the sun, giving his skin a healthy, warm glow. Auron sat on a flat rock, large enough for one person, overlooking out toward the lake, his eyes closed in meditative thought. A gentle breeze took its cue, ruffling his clothes, lifting the stray locks of his hair off his shoulders.

You stood by the door, starstruck by the beauty of it all.

“Are you just going to stand there, staring?” his voice broke through your trance.

You stepped forward, walking around the rock to join him by his side.

“Good morning to you too. You must be feeling better if you’re out and about like this.”

He turned his head slightly to look at you with his one good eye.

“I am. Thanks to you...so, thank you. For everything you’ve done so far.”

You felt a pleasant fluttering in your chest, the display of gratitude took you by surprise. Flustered you turned toward the meadow, afraid he would see the blush blooming across your cheeks.

He kept his eye on you, curious what would warrant that kind of strange reaction.

You busied yourself picking the white wildflowers while your blush faded, until you had a small bouquet in your hands, taking care in only picking the ones with the longest stems. Their irresistible scent wafted through the air, chasing away your sadness, a smile growing on your face.

You returned to Auron’s side, offering him a single flower. He stared at it, his expression unreadable until he took it from your fingers, accepting it without a word, he examined it closely. His menacing aura lightened but a fraction, encouraging you to test the waters further.

You flopped unceremoniously on the ground next to him, taking the flowers you picked, and began to braid them together.

“Auron?” you called out to him, getting his attention.

“Hm?” he said, his eye trained on the lake.

You hesitated, cursing yourself for saying his name unconsciously before thinking this thoroughly, but ended up asking anyways.

“...What are we?”

His eyebrows furrowed, searching your features for something you didn't know, his gaze felt like it was burning a hole through you when he didn’t respond right away. You refused to look him in the eye lest you see any sort of rejection.

He was curious about that too, but it didn’t cross his mind until you brought it up. What are you to him exactly? The people closest to his heart who he could call friends were dead. Kinoc was his friend, right? Or did that friendship end when he was kicked out of the Warrior Monks? But where did you lie amongst that?

“What do you want us to be?”

Of course this elusive man, would throw your question back at you—a question that you weren’t prepared to answer. You buried your head, feigning focus weaving the flower stems between your fingers. You hoped you didn’t seem too eager when you responded.

“Well...I suppose” you drawled out your words, unsure what you wanted, “what best describes us would be roommates…” _Fuck it. It was worth a shot._ “Would you consider us acquaintances?” _You know what? Nevermind, I’m a coward._

His heart wavered, he didn’t want to turn you down but he didn’t feel like he was ready to commit to this...this what-ever-the-hell-you-had going on between you both. He couldn’t bear to lose another friend, Gods, why was this all so vexing? He hated it the most when his voice became soft when he addressed you.

“Yes, I think we would both like that.”

 _Well, it was a step in the right direction, right?_ If that's what you wanted then why did you feel a dreadful pang of disappointment?

Abruptly you pushed yourself to your feet, shoving your feelings down, you showed Auron the finished product of your work.

He eyed you with mild amusement, at least you could confirm he was in a good mood. The emotions that rolled off of him in waves were less hostile than your initial meeting, which you took as a good sign. It was like he transformed into a different person overnight.

Eventually he caved, asking you, “Fine. I give, what’s that?”

You huffed, a smile making its way across your face. “A flower crown. Let me sit on the rock so I can put it on you.”

He simply stared at you, glancing between you and the crown in your hands, still excitedly held out in front of you. The flower stems were delicately woven together with precise, deft fingers, not a single flower stood out awkwardly or got damaged during the process. You really did quality work, he was impressed. Still, he was torn between entertaining your idea and flat out refusing you. His pride won out in the end.

“No.”

You rolled your eyes at his blunt refusal, moving closer to him, you reached your arm to place it on top of his head. “Chill, dude. It's just us. No one is going to make fun of you.”

He caught your wrist in his hand before you got too close, his grip tightened just shy of painful. He glared, trying to force you to back down.

“Please don’t.”

You glared back, engaging in a stare down with the man in front of you. Deciding maybe force wasn’t the best approach, your features softened into a pout. “Come on, Auron. You’ll look pretty.”

He sighed loudly finally dropping your wrist. Getting off the rock, he gestured for you to take a seat in his place. “Alright.”

With glee in your step, you sat on the rock making yourself comfortable. Auron just wanted to get this over with, he wasted no time sitting on the grass in front of you.

You placed the flower crown on his head, satisfied with your work. You were reveling in your victory!

His back became ramrod straight when he felt your fingers working through his hair, pulling out the tangles. You drew a breath through your nose, his hair was much softer than you ever expected. He was tense up until you began to stroke his scalp, his posture gradually relaxing into your touch.

“Auron, if you don’t mind me asking...where are you from?” In a short span, your fingers could comb his hair from scalp to ends with no resistance.

“Bevelle.” His voice was somewhere between a purr and a delighted groan. It made sense if he had told you he was an Ex-Warrior Monk. “You?”

Your fingers stopped their movements, but stayed buried within his silky tresses. He caught on to your hesitation, wondering why you were so reluctant to share.

“Pelabuhan,” you whispered.

 _Oh. That's why._ He thought, some more light was shed on who you are. You insisted to know more about him, but why were you so secretive about yourself?

After a long pause, he let out a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

You went back to massaging his scalp. “It’s quite alright.” That was a lie. You didn’t like sharing where you were from. It was a wound too deep to ever heal.

Feeling bolder, you were thankful he hadn't asked you to stop touching him, you braided his hair and unbraided it while you spoke.

"It's not something I like talking about. I'm sure you understand why."

He nodded and grunted in acknowledgement, the conversation dying down after that. You two stayed like that until shortly thereafter your stomach growled, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

"I, uh, haven't eaten anything," you blushed.

He stood up from his spot, offering his hand to help you stand.

"Neither have I."

You took his hand and lifted yourself up, even though he did most of the lifting.

"Let’s head back inside, I'll make us breakfast."

 

* * *

 

A large filling meal, a quick shower, and a change of fresh clothes later, you were back outside with the grumpy warrior trailing behind you.

You made your way over to the Chocobo coups you kept behind your home, it was noon and you could hear impatient chattering since you woke up. Calling it a Chocobo coup was actually an understatement, it was closer to a barn with stables. A very necessary size when you were a successful breeder.

“I’m sorry for serving breakfast late, everyone.” You set several large sacks of Chocobo feed on the ground, making sure to give them an extra serving of food in apology to every individual member.

Simultaneously your Chocobos clucked ranging from upset to excited. You unlocked the hatch to the coup, letting your Chocobos freely range within the border of your property after most of them finished eating. You always returned them to the safety of the coups when the sun set, before predators would feel bold enough to get too close to your home.

When they were done most Chocobos filed out of the coup to graze.

Duster sauntered over to you, greeting you in the familiar customary way of his, by butting heads with you while you poured food in the troughs.

“Hey buddy, good to see you in such high spirits,” you cooed.

When you were done you ran your fingers through the plush feathers of his neck. He was relishing in the attention you were showing him when a red blur caught Duster’s attention in his peripherals.

Auron took a step forward, content with simply watching you tend to your Chocobos.

But you saw something you hadn’t seen Duster do since your Crusader days. Duster disappeared in a flash, putting his body between you and Auron whose singular eye had narrowed, anticipating the overgrown chicken’s actions.

It was easy to forget Duster was the only Chocobo you owned that was trained to ride out in combat, you specifically chose him for his size and temper—his brown feathers were a secondary afterthought. He was barely over four feet tall when you first caught Duster out in the wild, now currently at seven and a half feet tall, he was a force to be reckoned with, easily towering over any other members of his flock—even the other males.

You gaped at Duster, astounded he was demonstrating the same aggressive behavior he was known for at the Crusader compound. Old habits die hard you suppose.

Duster puffed out his chest and shook his feathers, ruffling them until he appeared bigger, he waved his short wings and took a power stance in a display of dominance.

Auron widened his own stance, preparing for the worst. Not a trace of fear in his expression, his eye locked with those of your Chocobo.

“Duster, knock it off. Right now!” you ordered.

He refused to obey, closing the distance between him and Auron, charging him with every intent of running Auron over.

Auron refused to back down as well, eventually dodging until the absolute last moment right before Duster slammed into him, Auron swiftly rolling out of Duster’s path.

With very human-like movements, Duster looked over his shoulder, snorting through the holes on his beak, he cackled all the way back to the other Chocobos, joining them as if nothing happened. Knowing Duster, he was satisfied with making Auron look like a fool, not wanting to engage any further than his own petty game.

Auron picked himself off the ground, wordlessly, and patted the debris off himself.

You ran to his side, an apology already forming on your lips.

“Auron, I’m so sorry—”

He held a hand up to you, your words dying before you said more. “It’s alright, don’t apologize.” He ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth down any flyaways. “I don’t think your chicken likes me.”

You sighed, shaking your head in exasperation.

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

 

* * *

 

Back inside your home, you and Auron sat in the middle of your living room. Much had happened between last night and today, you still felt it was your responsibility to see this through to the end. Auron showed up on your doorstep mortally wounded, and despite the odds being against him, he was still here, still breathing. You had saved him from death, a feat you were afraid you didn’t have the skill or confidence in yourself to do, doubt troubled you as you watched him recover.

Looking back at all of this, you were completely in awe, you weren’t sure how any of this was possible.

He should hardly have the strength to get out of bed, much less fucking climb out of his bedroom window and take a twenty minute walk to the beach! But somehow he was up and about like he wasn’t in a coma for almost five whole days!

You had yet to ask him about his eye, about how he was adjusting to losing half his vision with little to no trouble.

“Does it bother you?”

“What does?” he gave you a lazy sideways glance, chin propped on his knuckles.

He was currently seated on your couch, stripped down to his waist, his black shirt discarded aside. You were in front of him examining the extent of his healing injuries, your eyes raking his form for any torn stitches. You found none thankfully, but you couldn’t help but feel ashamed you could have been the reason for the stitches reopening, you did wrestle him to the ground twice after all…

“Your eye. I’m surprised you aren’t grieving your missing eyesight.”

He seemed uninterested with your question as he did with everything else, treating your whole examination as nothing more than a nuisance, claiming it wasn’t necessary. You had a hard time believing that, and yet, how was he not showing an ounce of discomfort?

 _This man can’t be human,_ you internally laughed at the conclusion you came to.

“Oh, really? Hardly noticed it was even gone.”

Your fingers prodded at his torso, feeling over his fractured ribs, feeling relieved to know they were still damaged but on the mend. You made no mention of this, but Auron had lost some muscle mass during his stay here, it was best he didn’t know.

You peeked while you thought he wasn’t looking, noting that the dried blood that crusted thickly across the scar over his eye was beginning to peel at the edges.

“I’ll have to get you an eyepatch next time I’m in town.”

The ends of his mouth quirked into a subtle smile making your heart skip a beat.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“What about your shoulder? Does it feel broken?”

You grabbed for his left arm, conducting range of motion exercises to find out the extent he could move it. He winced as you moved the joints in his arm but kept silent through the whole thing. The tough act he was putting on was getting tiring real quick, you were just trying to do your job for fucks sake!

“It took a beating but feels fine for the most part.”

You begged to differ, his shoulder’s abduction was incredibly limited. You would have to bandage that to keep the bones in place, so you did. It would be best if he used his haori as a sling like he had been up until now, you didn't have the proper supplies for that.

“Your wounds are on their way to healing fully but I’ll have to keep the stitches in for a little while longer. Just don’t do anything stupid, got it?”

“Hmph.”

You cleaned the suture sites with antiseptic for good measure and instructed him to get dressed.

Auron was just beginning to shrug his clothes back on when there was a knock at your door.

You exchanged looks with the man, a stern look on his face and a question behind his eyes. You hurried into the hall to get the door. When you opened it, you were greeted with the wide grin of your neighbor Vandham.

He called your name in a boisterous manner after giving you the Yevon prayer bow. “Good to see you! I’m here to pick up my tea leaves like I said I would.”

You stepped aside, allowing him into your home. You had almost forgotten about his request, you were lucky you went foraging for his tea leaves later that day after you ran into him otherwise you would have truly forgotten through the chaos of the last few days.

“You mind waiting here while I go get your order?”

Vandham was being extra overbearing today, pushing past you and into your living room, making himself right at home. _Crap! Maybe I shouldn’t have let him in!_ Already you were regretting your decision to be nice.

“Sure! I hope you don’t mind me taking a short breather. We’re neighbors, but it's a long walk between our homes. Oh?” Vandham was rounding the corner when he spotted Auron seated still on the couch. “Am I intruding? Y/N, you didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.”

“Uh, no, its not—”

Your protests fell on deaf ears, Vandham walked over to Auron and held out his hand.

“Ya got a name, son?”

“Auron.” Auron got up to accept the handshake.

“Well, Auron, it's nice to meet ya! I’m glad our little healer here is finally making progress after living in solitude for so long.” Vandham placed his hands on his hips, a big shit-eating grin on his face. “I tell her it does her no good to isolate herself all the way out here like I do, she should be finding herself a nice young man to spend the rest of her life with. I’m sure she's told you all about her Crusader days before her hometown was destroyed. You just promise me you’ll take good care of her, ya hear?”

Auron’s ears perked up when he heard you were a Crusader. _That_ he didn’t know.

Steam was billowing out of your ears, your face flushing a bright red from ears to neck. Vandham had completely missed the mark, he couldn’t be any further from the truth! It wasn't like that between you and Auron at all! You had to stop him before he embarrassed you any more than he already had!

“Vandham—”

Auron’s firm voice cut you off before you could remedy Vandham’s mistake.

“I appreciate your concern. I have no intention to cause her any further distress. I vow to you I will protect her.”

You felt your stomach do somersaults, your world became hazy with tunnel vision, you fought to stay planted on your feet as a wave of nausea overcame you. Did you hear Auron correctly? That’s when you caught a mischievous glint in his eye, Auron was looking at you, his own shit-eating smirk taunting you from across the room.

You saw red.

He was fucking with you! This man had the audacity to make fun of you by putting you in this uncomfortable situation! You couldn’t believe Vandham was completely blind to his insincerity!

_Fucking asshole! What the fuck!_

You scowled at Auron, answering his smirk with a glare, you clenched your fists so tight, you were sure your nails had broken through the skin of your palms.

Vandham’s smile only grew wider—how was that even possible?

“Atta boy! You take care of Spira’s greatest healer or I’m short a reliable medic. You’re lucky to have such a lovely gal such as her. She gets so many patients from all around Spira seeking her for her services, I figured she was going to get snatched up eventually.”

“I really am lucky, aren’t I?”

Auron’s eye never left yours, keeping a straight face as he agreed with Vandham, amusement tinged his voice.

You had it with his shenanigans, you sharply turned on your heel, storming out of the room to retrieve Vandham’s medicine, muttering a frustrated, “Excuse me,” on your way out. Their conversation resumed even after you left the living room, Vandham taking the liberty to blab some more while you stepped out.

“Honestly speaking here, son, Y/N has been through so much. She wasn’t in the best shape when she first got here, losing everything does that to a person. She’s doing much better now, you could hardly get a word out of her two years ago. What you see now is night and day compared to how I saw her then.”

Auron only played along with Vandham’s misconception of his relationship with you to rouse a reaction out of you. You had mocked him a few times thus far, and as revenge he saw the opportunity and took it.

It was plainly obvious that your neighbor was putting you on the spot, it was intriguing to see the spectrum of emotions you usually fought to keep in check. It was never his intention to get information out of Vandham about you.

"I see."

How Vandham was terrible at reading social cues, Auron didn't know, but he kept talking regardless. But the conversation took a different turn from what he expected.

“I grew up a childhood friend to my Summoner, trained solely for the purpose of protecting her. I was young and foolish, thought that serving her—that duty was more important than my feelings. I would have died happy knowing she succeeding in her pilgrimage, even if it was at the cost of my own life. As I laid there injured, I realized not telling her how I felt was the biggest mistake I could ever make. But fate had other plans for us, she quit her pilgrimage and ended up marrying me.” Vandham’s expression grew solemn. “My point is, son, I never want to see anyone—you and Y/N included—become a sad husk you see before you.” He gestured to himself. “Make her happy, won’t you?”

Auron was at a loss for words, so he simply nodded, reflecting on what Vandham had shared.

You returned shortly after, still positively fuming, and all but shoved the jar of tea leaves in Vandham’s meaty hands, his mood shifted almost immediately, like a switch had flipped somewhere, back to his carefree self.

“Well, I’ve taken up a lot of your time, I’m terribly sorry about that. It was a pleasure seeing you both."

You forced a tight lipped smile, your voice sweet with fake politeness. "Don't worry about it, the pleasure is all mine."

He handed you some gil, said his thanks and headed in the direction of the exit to your home, you and Auron followed him to see him out. He was at the threshold, a hand on the doorframe when he turned to address Auron once more.

"Say, son, you seem kind of familiar, have we met before?"

Your shoulders stiffened noticeably, you weren't sure if Auron wanted to go incognito, he hadn't discussed with you his plans. He was some big deal hero. If word caught on that he was hiding out here, would someone come looking for him? You decided it was best you didn't intervene.

Suddenly you were grateful Horosha had gotten the name wrong.

You were glad Auron was a quick thinker, the lie came smoothly from his lips. "No, I don’t recall so, first time I’ve ever been this far north.”

Satisfied with Auron’s answer, Vandham finally went home.

You were too nervous to look Auron in the eye after that, you spent the rest of the night avoiding him. He didn’t engage in conversation so neither did you.

 

* * *

 

The following day was relatively quiet and uneventful, you had served lunch a few hours ago and were currently preparing snacks for afternoon tea. You stood in front of the kitchen oven, patiently waiting for the almond cookies you were baking to reach a perfect golden brown color. A kettle of passion flower tea reached its boiling point on the stove top, the kettle’s whistle blew, announcing the tea was ready.

You had hardly spoken to Auron since yesterday, only interacting with him out of necessity during meals. He spent all of yesterday night and today locked away in the guest bedroom, you didn’t dare check to see what he was up to. Your thoughts wandering to what he had told Vandham, the words repeating themselves throughout the day like a scratched record.

_I will protect her._

Your heartbeat quickened in your chest when you imagined them as clearly as he was saying it again. You knew he only said that to bother you, and oh, did it bother you, he had accomplished that. But not in a way he had hoped. You felt foolish for letting it get to you, you scolded yourself for feeling something when you heard those words.

And then there was Vandham. He had said things to Auron that you were not yet ready to share. You didn’t want Auron to know how lonely, how desperate you were for human affection. Vandham was right, solitude was hard on a person’s mental well-being.

You had ran off to the ends of the earth, where no one you knew would find you, but now that you had given yourself time to think things over, given yourself that time to recover, you began to crave something you had not felt in so long. Something you lost that day in Pelabuhan. Your dreams of becoming a hero went up in flames soon after. The Crusaders who you had grown to love, betrayed you.

A timer you had set went off, pulling you out of your thoughts. You used a pair of dishwasher cloths to pull the tray of fresh cookies out of the oven. You mentally waved away the intrusive thoughts, preferring to think about your friend you were expecting over soon, who was less complicated than the grouchy ronin you were housing.

With the tray in hand, you closed the oven and pivoted on your heel, nearly running into Auron.

“Are you having guests over again?”

You let out a yelp, startled, you jumped back, almost dropping the tray in the process.

_How did I not hear his footsteps? The house is littered in squeaky floorboards!_

You took a moment to regain your balance, your frown deepening when you heard Auron quietly let out a laugh. Glaring up at him, you ignored him, sidestepping around him and made a beeline for the dining room table. There, you poured the cookies into a wicker basket and covered it with a lace doily.

Auron followed after you, catching up easily to you; one of his steps was equivalent to two of yours!

He watched you as you went back into the kitchen, pulling a jar of honey and a plain white tea set from the cabinets. Within two days of knowing you, he learned you used the fancier tea set when you were in a foul mood. Whatever the reason for that, he didn't know. However, that wasn’t the case now since you didn’t bring that particular set out.

He sighed, "You're upset."

You stalked past him in silence, setting the kettle on a wooden serving board. You whipped back to face him.

"Excellent observational skills."

You went back to setting the table, placing the jar of honey and two tea cups on the table, noting you purposefully didn’t set a third.

Auron had a feeling he wasn’t invited to whatever you had planned.

You raised your head up when you heard the knock coming from outside, grateful you didn’t have to put up with Auron’s prodding anymore. You walked to the front door, a spring in your step, exuberant that you finally got to see Kimahri again.

Auron stood by the entrance to the dining room leading to the hall as he watched you answer the door. You greeted your guest politely, flashing a genuine smile he had never before seen you make at anyone else, he included, he felt a twinge of jealousy seeing the whole exchange take place. Who greeted you in return was a Ronso, which took him by surprise, not any Ronso he had seen before on the way, ascending Mt. Gagazet. This was a runt compared to other Ronso but still tall by human standards, he appeared still quite young, his mane not yet even and mature, sticking out awkwardly at certain angles. A teenager, Auron decided. He noticed a broken horn sat in the center of the Ronso’s forehead, a mark that would certainly shun him amongst his tribe. It would explain why he was so far from Ronso Territory, Auron silently observed from afar.

Kimahri looked up from you, eyeing Auron still standing a few feet behind you. You followed Kimahri’s line of sight, turning to look behind you to see what had caught his attention, surprised when you saw Auron still interested in who you invited. Surely you thought he would retreat back to his room after giving him the cold shoulder.

It wasn’t so much a stare down, much more of a curious gaze between the two parties.

Kimahri let himself in, clumsily placing his spear in a bucket by the door for umbrellas, he was so adorable, you’d adopt him if he’d let you—you doubt he would.

You knew Kimahri's question without him having to ask it.

"He finally woke up." Your voice full of emotion. Again, Auron felt an unwanted feeling creeping up on him because the display of your real self wasn't directed at him. He did his best to ignore it.

Your head turned to Auron, this time your smile was for him. "Auron, this is Kimahri. He helped me take care of you when we first found you. I owe it to him that you're still here, I couldn't have done it on my own." His chest felt warm hearing those words from your mouth, the feeling indescribable.

"Kimahri is glad you're alive. Makes Y/N happy."

You grabbed Kimahri by the hand, urging him deeper inside and snatched Auron's hand too once you were close enough, pulling them both to follow you, that same smile never leaving your face.

"Come on, come in! Let's all have tea together!"

 

* * *

 

Kimahri had brought up a valid point you had easily forgotten since you heard about it in passing.

“The celebration in Bevelle, how can I forget that?” you muttered under your breath, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Kimahri watched you silently, waiting for you to make a decision.

Auron lifted an eyebrow, confusion etched into his features. He wouldn’t get answers from sitting around, so he went ahead and asked you.

“Why is it so important that you attend?”

Your head was elsewhere, you had so much to plan, so much to do, that when you heard the question it caught you off guard. You wondered why he didn’t ask other questions first. You blinked, raising your head to meet his eye.

“Don’t you wonder how I stay afloat out in the middle of nowhere? I run a business, Auron. Patients don’t come seeking treatment often enough to pay the bills. I’m not broke, no, but if I wait too long I’m going to have to start cutting corners in places. I’ve been stocking up on goods for a while now, I need to get rid of my merch and this is the perfect opportunity to do so.”

“Kimahri and Y/N planned to go before you came. Simply a delay,” Kimahri chimed in.

Auron asked another question that was on his mind. “This celebration. What's the occasion?”

You gave him a sympathetic look, your voice gentle. “The Maesters are throwing it to celebrate the defeat of Sin, and the beginning of a new Calm. We’re around the same age, right? And you’re from Bevelle, surely you remember the last Calm. This is a week long event.”

His face instantly warped into one of hurt, you wished you could comfort him somehow had you not been so awkward with your own emotions.

“There is nothing to celebrate.”

You hoped he could see you weren’t forcing him to come along. The lives of his friends were given for the happiness of others, you can only try to understand what he felt.

Auron ejected into his thoughts after that while Kimahri and you discussed ideas and made plans.

You both said goodbye to Kimahri shortly later when a solid decision was made.

 

* * *

 

Auron called your name.

You looked up from the book you were reading, curious to what he wanted. You sat in the living room in a reading chair, under a gaslamp, your face illuminated by the low lighting of the lamp above you.

Auron inhaled sharply, awed by the serenity, the peacefulness of it all. A stark contrast to the bloodshed of almost two weeks ago. He could still imagine the battered body of the final aeon struggling to combat Yu Yevon's influence if he closed his eyes, the aeon eventually succumbing and turning to slaughter Braska. Hardly believing he was still alive, breathing.

You closed your book, marking your page before you did, you set the book aside on a table and got up to your feet.

“What is it?” You tilted your head quizzically.

Your wonderful voice brought him back from the terrible memories.

“I wish to come along with you.”

You were taken aback.

“Are you sure?”

“Do you refuse?”

“Well, no, but…”

Your words trailed off, biting your lip, grasping for the right thing to say.

You don't know what compelled you to do so, but you took a step forward, and then another, closing the distance between you, placing a hand on his arm when you were face to face with him. Once you were certain the physical contact wasn't bothering him, you gingerly placed your other hand on his cheek, the stubble tickling the flesh of your palm.

“Oh, Auron, I don’t want you to feel obligated to tag along. You’re welcomed to stay here until we return.”

You could have sworn he leaned into your touch, subtly turning his head, the corner of his lips pressing into the heel of your palm. He closed his eye, if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was enjoying this.

“It seems we were fated to meet. It would be a shame if we were to part now.”

"You don't have to."

"I want to," his voice barely above a whisper.

You could help but smile, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, you traced patterns on his cheek with your thumb.

You knew the implications of those words, unspoken, but it was hardly necessary. He had come to terms what will he be facing in Bevelle; crowds of people, all joyful, celebrating the fruits of his efforts, of his sacrifice. All Spirans knew a Summoner gave their life in exchange for a ten year Calm. A decade for the continent to flourish and reproduce, before destruction would rain once more, rising from Zanarkand Ruins. A ruthless cycle, destined to continue forever.

Auron had only prolonged the inevitable. But to Braska, it was worth one life for the multitudes, for the happiness of others, however short-lived.

You took a step back, letting go of him, placing your hands on your hips and letting out a huff.

Your voice came out as playful to lighten the mood. “Well, if you’re coming along, I ask that you help me pack my supplies starting tomorrow. We need to head to bed early after this, I need to wake up before the sun rises. I’ll be sending a Chocobo ahead of us to make reservations, I absolutely refuse to camp outside the city outskirts. That’s how I got ransacked once. Will you help me?”

“Anything.”

_That was easier than I thought._

You tapped his bicep hidden beneath his haori with your index finger, it was too late to drop the act now.

“Good. Rest up, alright? I’ll be putting those muscles of yours to good use.”

Auron and you spent the rest of week sorting, taking inventory, and loading supplies onto a wagon.

By the end of the week, your little posse of introverted warriors were ready to head to the festivities.


	5. Calm Bounty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way to Bevelle you run into a few...issues...Why can't you just catch a break?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of rape, but no actual rape happens.

Without notice, the birds that were chirping moments ago altogether fell silent, leaving the forest’s air still and unsettling. You had not seen any wildlife, either natural or unnatural for quite some time now, for about a kilometer. The distinct feeling of being watched never leaving you, making you feel uneasy, your base instincts kicking into overdrive, warning you of the looming danger. Something was out there, hiding in the trees. You felt like you become that something's prey and now it had come down to fight or flee.

A rustle of bushes there, a shaking of tree leaves on the branches overhead, and the sound of crinkling grass underneath boots came randomly from everywhere and nowhere.

They were testing you. Waiting to see if you cowered in fear or stood your ground. Checking how adept your senses were to noticing their presence. It was a game to them.

This was a game to you too. You had decided to play this game long before they had chosen you as their target—that was their first mistake, these people were overconfident in their abilities and were barking up the wrong tree. Oh, how unfortunate they were, you vowed to teach them a lesson they would never forget.

Your knuckles turned bone white as you tightened your grip on Duster's reins. Sweat formed at your brow, while perspiration soaked into your clothes, the humidity of the forest clung uncomfortably on your skin. Duster took long, cautious steps, his eyes darting everywhere, trying to find the source of his discomfort, his senses on high alert.

You were alone. Duster and you pulling a single cart through the dense fog of the early morning, standard weather for this region of Spira. Most denizens of Spira journeyed through the Calm Lands and straight up Mt. Gagazet, completely avoiding the forest you called your home. The marine layer that rolled in from the sea covered the forest floor made visibility so dreadful, it wasn't worth the risk for travelers to go out of their way to travel west when there were paths more direct and less dangerous. You couldn't see any more than five feet ahead of you.

You had the home field advantage, they had no clue you were in your element and you planned to keep it that way.

They came from the trees, falling from above, landing on their feet with cat-like grace, four burly men blocked the path in front of you. Duster let out a frightened high pitched shriek, he flapped his stubby wings and attempted to u-turn out of there. You dug the heels of your boots into the stirrups, thigh muscles tightening, your hands clenching the reins so you wouldn't be thrown off the seat. Three more men popped out of the bushes on either side of you, taking up the rear and successfully blocking the last chance at escaping.

Ambushing you, one bandit rushed Duster and stole the reins from your grasp, cornered and defeated, Duster stood down, fear flashing between his eyes.

The leader of the bandit group approached you, swagger in his gait, plain steel sword in hand, he threatened you to dismount, yanking you by the arm from the saddle. The bandit who held Duster’s reins led him away, effectively separating you from your mount. The leader got your attention, your eyes forcing to look away from Duster, by pointing the tip of the sword, pressing it lightly against your jugular, smirking when he watched your throat bob, thoroughly enjoying watching you squirm. With your eyes now on him, you saw he was a natural redhead, hair cropped short on his scalp, with a neatly trimmed beard and sporting a wicked scar on the opposite side of his face than someone you knew, eerily similar.

One of the other bandits came from behind and roughly pulled the hood of your cloak from your head, stepping behind the leader to get a good look at you. This bandit was bald and had a bandage over his nose. His eyes traveled down your body, drinking in your beauty, you felt your skin crawl knowing such a lecherous man was leering at you.

"We caught ourselves a real looker, boss. She'll be worth a fortune!"

The leader's face got closer to yours, the smell of alcohol thick on his breath. "Aye. I'm sure our client won't mind if we break her in first."

A chorus of laughter surrounded you, agreeing with their leader.

The blood drained from your face, you let out an anxious gasp.

Satisfied with your reaction, he shoved you into the hold of another bandit, a man with greasy shoulder length blue hair, who had no qualms getting handsy with you, feeling you up before he wrapped his hand around your wrist, squeezing painfully, the other hand pulled at your braid.

They turned their backs to you, and directed their attention toward the cart—their second mistake. You took the opportunity to survey their weapons, two swords, 4 knives and the man that held you had daggers, all carried a single weapon type, worn on a belt at their waists—might as well have showed you all the cards in their hand. One of the sword wielders, not the leader, had a dented steel shield, lightweight, but hardly worth using in combat in it's awful condition. No guns thankfully, they were too much trouble to obtain under strict Yevon rule, the only people who had easy access to them were the Warrior Monks. No third-rate bandits would be wielding guns around here.

A Cheshire cat smile broke across your face. _Let the games begin, gentlemen._

The leader said in a mocking tone, “Let’s see whatchu got for us, girly.” He placed a hand on the cart’s cloth cover, getting his fingers under a corner.

You struggled in the bandit’s hold, attempting to pry your arm free but your efforts were in vain.

“Stop! Please don’t steal my stuff, it’s all I have,” you pleaded with them.

That earned you a scoff from the leader and several chortles from the others.

The leader abandoned the cart, walking toward you, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning your head from side to side, examining you with lust in his eyes.

“I’m going to do more than just take your things, that's a promise.”

You glared at him in defiance. He didn’t like that.

He took the sword in his hand and sliced at the neckline of your plain beige dress, the blade making a swooshing sound as it cut through empty air, dangerously close to your breasts, a mistake on your part for letting your anger get the best of you. You yelped, using your free hand to catch the material before it fell lower down your shoulders.

The leader sheathed his sword in its scabbard, “There will be more of that if you resist, so stay put.”

He gestured toward the cart, ordering his underlings to lift the fabric cover off the cart, a couple of the fools getting closer to peer inside—the third mistake. What greeted them was not valuables and riches, but a swift blue clawed foot to the jaw. Auron followed close behind Kimahri’s first strike, leaping forward and slammed the hilt of his katana square in one of the bandit’s nose.

Duster too, took action, tackling down the bandit that held him captive with a shoulder ram, a series of violent pecks rained down upon the bandit’s person once his back hit the ground.

You used the moment of confusion to your advantage, you stomped on the blue-haired bandit’s foot, and threw your weight into his abdomen, elbowing him and broke free. Kimahri and Auron were out of the cart clashing with the other bandit’s weapons by the time you freed yourself. You rushed forward to join them amongst the fray, when the leader intercepted you, his sword swinging wildly for you. The blue-haired bandit had recovered himself by then, reaching for the twin daggers at his sides, the look on his face told you he had set his sights on you. You found yourself sandwiched between the two bandits, you would be overpowered if you didn’t take one down soon.

Auron had successfully dispatched his two bandits in no time at all. The first one got knocked out when the hilt came crashing into their face. Facing down the second bandit, Auron sliced the shield cleanly in half, the bandit retaliated by jabbing his sword forward, but Auron parried it, angling his katana and sent a kick to the bandit’s side, knocking the wind out of him. The bandit recovered, closing in fast but Auron was faster, he sliced his katana across the man’s abdomen in one swift swing, spraying blood everywhere, coating the blade in it. The bandit collapsed soundlessly, lifeless body hitting the ground.

Auron looked over his shoulder, seeing Kimahri faring well with his kill, toying with the bandit he was fighting, easily keeping the bandit at a distance with his spear—what was a measly knife compared to a spear? The other bandit had fled some time ago, clutching his broken jaw, stumbling into the foliage and disappearing from sight. Trusting Kimahri would be fine, he finally turned to you and his heart nearly stopped, breath hitching in his throat.

You fought between the bandits, dancing gracefully around the two, your movements calculated and elegant, your twin daggers in your hands locked with the other dual wielder, exchanging blow after blow. Your speed was a sight to behold—had you not been narrowly avoiding the furious swipes of the leader’s sword behind you. Your dress was in tatters, hardly held together by mere threads, shallow cuts bleeding where cloth and leather didn’t cover skin.

The blue-haired bandit eventually faltered, his swipes growing sluggish and clumsy, he was beginning to show signs of tiring. You on the other hand, kept up your speed, refusing to slow, a decisive blow made when you managed to knock a dagger out of his hand—the opening you needed. Your dagger sunk into the space between the man’s ribs, angled perfectly to pierce his heart, the flick of your wrist so precise. Watching you deal the fatal blow, Auron knew you had taken lives before, you made it look so easy, when lodging a blade between a man’s ribs was anything but.

In return that gave the leader the opening he needed as well, your back exposed to him, raising his sword high above his head, he brought it down with a deadly force. Auron had moved on instinct with the prowess of a battle hardened warrior, throwing himself in front of you, his back lightly touching yours, he raised his sword horizontally, a hand on the hilt and the other holding the back of his katana, he blocked the leader’s blow, tremors from the blow traveling down his arms.

You had pulled your dagger out of the bandit’s torso, flicking the blood off the blade, turning, you were surprised Auron had come to your aid. Auron’s eye met yours, a silent conversation passing between you, a simple look telling you what words failed to convey, you nodded in understanding. Crouching low, you didn’t miss a beat when the leader gave you a fierce glower before you sent the dagger, plunging into his thigh, the bandit stumbled back, landing on his ass, and scooted back pathetically, away from you and Auron.

The bandit whimpered, a total contrast to the smug act he was pulling only minutes ago. Auron followed after him, pointing his katana at the bandit’s throat, an exact mirror to how the bandit had held it to yours, but Auron’s expression was cold and merciless, not a hint of emotion betraying his features.

Tears and snot streamed down the bandit’s face, “Please spare me, I didn’t mean to harm her. I have to make a living too!”

Auron pressed his katana harder against the bandit’s throat, drawing a thick drop of blood, watching it disappear under the collar of his tunic.

“You planned more than just steal. You were going to use her and sell her off to the highest bidder when you were done with her,” Auron stated.

The leader, broken and beaten, retreated further still, until his back hit warm, blue fur.

But Auron continued to speak, never lowering his katana, “How many women had you sold off before you were unfortunate to run into us?"

The man crumpled, raising his hands in defense, a scream building in his throat.

Auron raised his sword, intending to kill him, his voice crescendoing into a shout, “Face judgement!”

What came down was not Auron’s blade but instead Kimahri’s spear, beheading the bandit, his head rolling across the forest floor, expression slackened, fresh blood seeped into the dirt path.

Auron sharply turned on his heel, red sleeve fluttering behind him, stalking past you and Kimahri. Pulling a rag from his coat pocket, he wiped the blood from his blade.

“Sad fool wasn’t worth a swift death,” Auron muttered as he passed you, heading in the direction where several of your Chocobos stayed behind, with two wagons filled with your belongings. Auron disappeared into the forest to retrieve them further up the road.

Kimahri approached you, gesturing to your wounds, “You okay?”

You sighed, “Yeah I got it, just give me a moment.” You pulled your medi-kit from a pouch on Duster’s saddle, returning over to Kimahri. Kimahri offered you a hand, you thanked him as he helped you climb onto the cart so you may sit and tend to your wounds. You popped open a metal tin, slathering a homemade salve you concocted yourself. With the cuts properly disinfected, you cast Cure, watching the cuts seal themselves shut before your eyes.

When Auron returned with the Chocobos and wagons, your group reconnected with its other faction and continued down the path that led to the Calm Lands. You all walked another two hours further into the forest where more trees littered the landscape, denser than where you had gotten ambushed. Parched and absolutely drenched in your own sweat, you took a big swig of your canteen, draining the last of the water.

“Let’s stop here for a quick rest,” your voice broke through the silence.

Many of your Chocobos chirped in relief, taking the time to preen and groom themselves clean of the dirt. Duster, joining his flock, came from the front to keep a watchful eye on them, guarding them. It was his duty as their alpha.

You gathered all the empty canteens in your arms, shoving them into a large shoulder bag and slung the bag over your shoulder. You were familiar with the forest, it was like your backyard, you weren’t a total hermit, you came out here to forage and gather herbs on occasion. There was a spring off the path, a three minute walk from your current position.

“I’ll go refill our canteens. Kimahri, you go on ahead and scout for any more bandits, but stay hidden. I’m sure they’re getting bolder with all the people coming from all over Spira,” you said, already moving into the cover of the bushes. You gave a final order to Auron before disappearing completely, “Auron, you stay here and guard all our stuff. Duster will cover you if anything goes wrong. I’ll be right back.”

You didn’t even wait to hear an affirmation from anyone, ducking into shadows, melting into the darkness of the forest. You actually walked right passed the spring, relieved to finally be alone. You liked both Kimahri and Auron but it made conversation difficult to keep up when the only responses you got where grunts and hums, it was exhausting. You wished to pass the time filling the silence with _something._ Trees and more trees got boring quickly, you felt restless and the boys weren’t making it any easier on you.

Where you were actually heading was a hot spring not far from the spring you mentioned, connecting to a system of thermal vents that stemmed from Mt. Gagazet. One of the few hot springs that were not under the mountain, located within the cave system. The moisture that clung to your skin since the tussle with the bandits was unbearable, you felt so _filthy._ You made it to the hot spring, glad to see not a single soul. It was a shallow, private little pool, the trees that grew around the hot spring provided enough cover. You didn't have to worry about anyone seeing things in passing, unless they got close enough and became the subject of your wrath.

Pulling off your boots, your bare feet stepped into the shore of the hot spring, testing the temperature of the water, you undid your braid, stripping out of all your clothes then and there, undergarments included, and carefully set your cloak on a boulder, elated that it was in one piece unlike your dress that was destroyed. You flung the ruined dress aside, intending to leave it behind, and stepped into the hot spring, submerging yourself under the water.

You were beyond pissed those brutes had shredded your dress to ribbons! You weren’t planning to change into your old Crusader gear until you set up shop in the shopping district tomorrow morning. Funny how showing a little skin brought in more customers, but your Crusader outfit was decent for combat but also conscious of Spiran weather, skimpy in some places but heavily armored in others.

You reemerged from beneath the surface of the water, tossing your hair over your shoulder and swam to the shore to retrieve a bar of soap and bottle of conditioner you brought along, silently cursing yourself for forgetting to pack a swimsuit. It's not like this trip was to enjoy yourself, you were going for business. You guessed birthday suit would have to do.

You scrubbed at your skin until it was pink and raw, being careful not to be too aggressive while conditioning your hair. You wanted to wash away the day’s grime, only to realize you wouldn’t reach Bevelle until after the sun went down. You exhaled through your mouth, frustrated that you were going to get dirty again, this was but a temporary solution.

You had to be quick to dress before Kimahri and Auron noticed you were taking too long and came looking for you. You stood up from your spot in the pool of water, reaching for the same shoulder bag with the canteens. You inconspicuously hid a towel and your Crusader outfit at the bottom of the bag. Laying those clothes, too, against a boulder.

_Auron._

His name came to your mind subconsciously, your mind reeling with the events of earlier. The cold look on his face as he threatened to kill the leader. His words, angry and unforgiving, knowing what the bandit had intended to do to you. It was very unlike Auron to act the way he did. He was normally quiet and collected, speaking only when he deemed necessary. The self righteous speech he gave felt out of character, but the raw emotion that came through his words was certainly like him, something you had only seen once that day on the beach. If only it was as easy as asking him if he was okay, the man was very private, seldom telling you anything unless you asked first. You're sure he felt he was being generous if he gave you a straightforward response and not one of his signature cryptic ones you have become familiar with.

You were so preoccupied by your thoughts, you climbed over the rocks on the sides of the hot spring, lifting yourself up to the muddy bank when your foot slipped from underneath you, you screamed bloody murder, your towel that you wrapped around yourself, became loose and fell back into the water. You caught yourself before you slipped and ate shit, the water sloshing around you, regaining your balance, relieved that you didn’t stub your toe or worse.

You were just about to turn to reach for your towel when you heard a rustle of leaves and footsteps approaching you fast. Auron didn’t even give you the chance to cover yourself up before his figure burst through the trees, his katana in hand, poised and ready for anything.

“Y/N!” his voice came as panicked.

Your heartbeat pounded loudly in your ears. The sounds of the forest muffled, nearly mute. You stood there, absolutely still, like a Chocobo caught in the path of a Chocobo Eater. Your brain felt like it had short-circuited, unable to process what was the appropriate course of action after being caught nude in front of a man who was closer to a stranger than a friend.

He skidded to a halt, mere feet from the shore, freezing in place, his jaw falling agape, his eye locking with yours, the pupil that stared back blown wide. Curiosity got the better of him, he broke eye contact to rove over your beautiful body, laid bare before him. Appreciating the gentle swell of your breasts rising and falling in sync with your breathing, to supple flesh of your hips, leading further to the patch of curls over your mound, and finally your long, shapely legs that disappeared under the surface of the water. Auron felt like liquid fire was burning through his veins, sizzling, hot and boiling, the blood traveled to his cheeks and farther south, below the belt. He had to remember to breathe, letting out a deep breath his didn’t know he was holding.

You regained your senses, the initial shock shifting into pure, relentless rage, your eyes piercing daggers straight through him. If looks could kill, he wouldn't even need a summoner to send him.

“Don’t just stand there staring! GET OUT!” you bellowed, splashing hot spring water in his direction, his clothes getting thoroughly soaked.

He snapped out of his trance, abruptly turning his back to you and fled from whence he came, but not before offering you a weak, “my apologies” on his way out.

When you could no longer hear his footsteps retreating in the opposite direction, you allowed yourself to bury your face in your hands, blush furiously staining your cheeks. You couldn’t believe that just happened!

Utterly embarrassed and deflated, you had to gather yourself before exiting the hot spring, shimmying into your clothes. Taking your sweet time, you doubt he would be coming back, and knowing him, he’d make up some excuse to prevent Kimahri from heading over here too. You made sure your armor was secured, fastening your greaves around your boots and a steel pauldron over your right shoulder, a whole steel arm guard attached to it, covering even your fingertips, the clawed right glove felt like icing on the cake. You wanted to feel badass, your outfit was awesome...but with your ego hurt, you just couldn’t.

Throwing your cloak on as a finishing touch, you picked up all your things and headed back to the boys who were waiting for you, making sure to stop by the spring to refill all the canteens before you arrived.

When you got there, everyone had already lined up into position, ready to keep moving, waiting on your arrival.

Auron had taken the front with Duster, leading him by the reins. _Since when did they start getting along?_ You were surprised Duster didn't try to peck Auron's remaining eye out, Duster didn't take kindly to _anyone_ but you. He hardly liked Kimahri, but didn't bully him the way Duster had bullied Auron. Shrugging, you took the rear alongside Kimahri.

Finally falling into your position, Auron made a point to avoid you, making no move to look your way, only acknowledging your presence with a gruff, "Let's go," and began walking forward. Anyone else would have written it off as typical Auron behavior, but you knew better. His posture looked more rigid than usual. Apparently you weren't the only one who noticed either.

Kimahri glanced back and forth between you and Auron, a curious light behind his gaze. His eyes asked without him having to voice his question out loud. _Did something happen?_ Your response was a sheepish look, you kept your eyes downcast. Understanding flashed in his expression, Kimahri was incredibly intelligent, he had probably put two and two together without you having to open your mouth. Judging by your change of clothes and Auron's flustered expression when he returned to the rest stop, Kimahri knew the reason why both of you were acting strange. Kimahri threw you a knowing look, before dropping the subject and following after Auron and everyone else.

You sighed. _That Ronso is too smart for his own good._ You were ticked, now that the misunderstanding between you and Auron had become group wide knowledge. Would today's embarrassment ever end? You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself, pulling the hood lower down your face, hoping you kept a low profile for the rest of the trip.

 

* * *

 

It was mid-afternoon by the time you exited the forest and entered the rocky range at the base of Mt. Gagazet, and sunset by the time you reached the inn in the middle of the Calm Lands. There was still half of the plains ahead of you and a small portion of the Macalania Forest before you were within Bevelle city limits.

Everyone in your group had not stopped to rest since you were still in the forest. Your Chocobos weren't exhausted, but they looked tired. You had left your home before dawn, if you wanted to make it to Bevelle by tonight, you had to take a moment to allow them to rest. You stopped by the inn, borrowing the troughs there to feed your Chocobos and give them water before continuing onward.

Since you arrived at the inn, Kimahri and Auron were nowhere to be seen, you assumed they headed inside the inn to grab a bite. They were probably sick and tired of the tea, crackers, and jerky you packed. You were busy filling a trough with feed, when you heard a familiar voice you had not heard in a long time.

"Is that you, Y/N?"

It belonged to Elma, a fellow Chocobo Knight and Crusader. She was younger than you, joining the Crusaders a few years into your service. She looked up to you like a sister, you had gotten close in the time you had known her.

Looking up from your work, Elma didn't look much different since last you had seen her, a bit older but otherwise the same.

"It is you! I'm so glad to see you, how have you been?" Elma threw her arms around you in an embrace, bouncing on her heels. You returned the hug, pulling away slightly so you could see her youthful face.

"Hey, girl! Good to see you too. I'm doing better," you gestured to all the Chocobos surrounding you, "I'm heading to Bevelle for the celebration."

Duster took that as his cue, coming up from behind, head butting your back. Giving him the attention he craved, you broke off from Elma. Duster lowered his head closer to you but you still had to reach up on your tiptoes to give him head scratches.

Elma looked bewildered, "You're a breeder now?" She counted nine Chocobos in total besides Duster, all of varying heights but the same golden color. Duster's feathers the only uniquely colored one of the bunch.

You hummed, "Mhm. I'm selling most of them in the marketplace for the celebration. Shoshana and Ren are coming back home with me after its over." You pointed to a small, docile Chocobo—Duster's mate, respectively, and a beta male, several inches shorter than Duster, who currently resided beneath some shade. His wary eyes watching you interact with Elma; if Duster was fire, Ren was earth, steady and level-headed as opposed to Duster's fiery temper. Ren was Duster's right hand second-in-command. As a breeder, you had no control over their dynamics, you just let them sort them out amongst themselves so long as no fights broke out.

Elma wrinkled her little button nose, "Only you could tame that wild beast of yours. He caused so much trouble at the compound, Lucil had to keep him in a makeshift stable away from the others until you came to take him away." You laughed at that.

That's when you saw Captain Lucil in the distance exiting the inn, a nervous looking younger man fidgeting behind her. Elma noticed your shift in focus, and turned to see what had caught your attention. Seeing Captain Lucil, Elma waved her over. Lucil squinted her eyes at you, unable to believe who she was seeing, until a smile broke across her face and she walked over to you, the same nervous man following close behind.

"Y/N, is it really you? Where have you been all this time?"

You felt like how that guy behind Lucil visibly looked, uncomfortable and tense. You knew Lucil was a sharp woman, it was the reason she got to the position she was in while you stayed a simple lieutenant. Elma you could fool no sweat, but you had to be extra careful around Lucil. You put on your best mask, you would not allow them to see you dreading the interaction. You knew what the celebration would entail since you heard about it over a week ago. An increase in security meant the Crusaders would be there, you would be running into many of your old comrades-in-arms. This was only the beginning, a small taste of what you would be facing.

You plastered the sweetest smile you could muster on your face and gave her a Yevon prayer bow. “Captain, long time no see. I was just telling Elma here that I’m actually on my way to Bevelle for the celebration.”

It's not as if you disliked Lucil, you both enlisted around the same time and were the same age. You both were stationed in different cities, but when you were put on the same team, you kicked ass together. She wasn’t present when Pelabuhan was destroyed and your mental fallout, she didn’t know you’ve been suffering alone ever since.

As if sensing your anxiety, Shoshana came from behind you as well, pushing her head into your arm, on the opposite side of Duster. She cooed softly, demanding head pets as well to which you were more than happy to oblige.

You were thankful when Elma spoke up, taking the attention away from you. “Y/N says she plans to sell the Chocobos in the market. Captain, I’m tired of having to wrangle them up. Can we head back to town and wait until they’re up for sale to get a few?”

Lucil shot her a withering look, shaking her head in exasperation but Elma didn’t shrink away from Lucil’s gaze, likely used to her Captain’s strict, no nonsense attitude.

“You know we can’t do that, Elma. We’re here on a mission, we can’t head back until we’re done investigating.”

You quirked an eyebrow at that, “What _are_ you doing here?”

Lucil pursed her lips in thought, as if considering whether it was worth telling you or not but in the end ended up telling you anyways, figuring there was no harm done if you swore not to tell anyone. Lucil trusted you.

“It hasn't been made public knowledge yet but we’ve gotten recent reports that fiend activity has nearly doubled since Sin’s defeat. High Priest Besar has dispatched several teams throughout Spira to confirm this. We were lucky enough to be sent close enough to Bevelle. We don’t have to travel far for the festivities.”

You pondered her words, had you noticed more fiends lately? Since Auron’s arrival, you left the house less often. But come to think of it, Kimahri, Auron, and you had to fight your way through an unusually ridiculous amount of fiends on the way here. You wrote it off nothing out of the ordinary, potentially caused by traveling with such a large group. Prior to meeting Kimahri you traveled with no more than three Chocobos at a time, passing by unnoticed was essential. Prior to Auron, you bumped it up to five Chocobos, your trips becoming less frequent. This was by far the largest group you had ever brought along.

You had confidence in the abilities of your two companions. Ronsos were born and raised to be warriors. You had sparred with Kimahri on numerous occasions, curious of the notorious Ronso strength, Kimahri showed more than adequate proof to back up that claim. You actually had trouble keeping up with him, his strength outmatching your speed, wearing you down to a frazzled mess. Then there was Auron who demonstrated his skill when those bandits attacked and again during all those fiend battles. If you weren’t the one who healed him, you wouldn’t even know he was injured, the man was a fucking powerhouse! It wasn’t hard to believe he was a hero of Spira.

It didn’t make sense to you though, Sin was gone. Fiends were created from unsent restless souls. Why would there be more fiends if the death toll decreased significantly during a Calm?

"Y/N, it's important that this information is kept under wraps until the situation can be investigated further. Please don't share it with anyone else. But do be careful for the remainder of your travels."

You nodded, concerning yourself rather with whether the increase in fiend encounters would delay your arrival to the inn, you certainly didn't account for that in your schedule. You had told the innkeeper you'd arrive in the evening, you loathed being late. And then you still had to take your Chocobos to the stables too before you called it a day.

You almost didn't notice the timid voice that came from behind Lucil, trying to get your attention.

"Um, excuse me, are you a Chocobo breeder?"

The voice belonged to the young man who you had totally forgotten the existence of until he spoke up. He visibly straightened up when your eyes landed on him, obviously intimidated by you for a reason you couldn't decipher.

"Why, yes I am. Why do you ask?"

He opened his mouth, preparing to answer when Elma butted in.

"Oh, this is Clasko. He was just recruited last month. Sorry, he's just having second thoughts about joining. He thinks he might be better off as a breeder."

You knew Elma well. She was probably being hard on the poor guy, she couldn't expect every recruit to be as eager as she. You waltzed over to the young man, offering your hand, hesitantly he shook it.

"Hello, Clasko. Ignore Elma. She's just being an overachiever. As a matter of fact, she seems awfully familiar with you, have you two met before?"

You shot Elma a smug look over your shoulder. She scowled back, her face becoming red in color, Elma never did like being teased.

"Yeah actually. We grew up in the same hometown. Her and Lucil have told me all about you."

Lucil coughed and cleared her throat loudly, interrupting the flow of conversation.

“We’re sorry for taking up your time, Y/N, but we should really be getting back to work. There’s plenty to do before we’re at the celebration.”

With that, you said your goodbyes to Lucil and Elma planning a day to meet up in Bevelle during the festivities, but not before offering Clasko a wink, promising to share a few of your trade secrets about Chocobo breeding, glad to know there was someone amongst the Crusaders as enthusiastic as you on the subject. Clasko blushed madly, scurrying behind his team. You laughed out loud when they were out of earshot, no wonder Elma had fun picking on him, he was a mess of nerves.

Kimahri and Auron exited the inn shortly thereafter, and you were all on the road once again.

 

* * *

 

Upon entering Bevelle, you parted with Kimahri, promising to meet up later when you were free from your duties. Where he found lodging for the night, you didn’t know but the kid had his ways. You trusted he would be fine on his own. Auron left too with nary a word, getting separated during the chaos of the masses, losing himself into the crowds of people before you even realized he was gone, and vanishing as suddenly as he became a part of your world. You shrugged, figuring he was off to do his own thing, lightly wondering if you'd see him again.

You and your entourage of Chocobos headed to a storage house to lock up your stock for the night, then a stable you had rented to use during the festivities, paying a hefty amount of gil for a safer area to store them while you made negations with clients. Feeding them and spending some time with the fledglings that would be sold soon, you entrusted Duster, Ren, and Shoshana with taking care of the fledglings in your absence. Spotting a young stable boy bored out of his mind, you tossed him a thousand gil, advising him to share any suspicious activity if he spotted any. The stable boy, excited with his gil, gave you a mock salute and promised to tell you anything if he saw something out of the ordinary. Now that that was taken care of, you left to your next destination.

You made reservations at an Al-Bhed ran inn, much like the one out in the Calm Lands. Both individual locations ran by the same polite blonde-haired, green-eyed Al-Bhedian gentleman who recognized you as a regular by now. You knew Spirans to wary of Al-Bhedian businesses and made your reservation here knowing that vacancies elsewhere would be hard to find. Besides that, you genuinely liked this chain of inns. They were always tidy, and well kept, you especially loved the oriental theme, typical of the Al-Bhed. You weren't so far up the ass in Yevon teachings, you cared little for tradition and religion, the use of machina hardly bothering you, you were more tolerant than the average Spiran. And overall prices were always reasonable, a win-win for you.

You greeted the young Al-Bhedian girl at the front desk, giving her your name and reservation number. In exchange, she gave you a room number and two sets of keys. You headed straight to the room after that, opening the door and closing it once inside, you dragged your luggage behind you as you came in, tossing it on the floor and rummaged through its contents. Finding what you needed, a change of clothes and some heels, you left the clothes out on the bed closest to the window and went to the bathroom. A hot shower later, you walked back out into the room in just a towel, perfectly comfortable with yourself. It's not like your roommate had come by to pick up his key, he wasn’t going to walk in on you naked...again. You glanced around the room, eyeing two seperate beds, and a small living area by the window with sofas and a coffee table, letting out a deep sigh.

You reserved specifically a two bed room for you and Auron to share for the week. Bevelle was the largest city in Spira, how was he ever going to find you? You were going to give him the inn's address sometime on the road over here, it had slipped your mind when you were still at the cottage, but then the awkward incident happened and you avoided each other, refusing to speak to him, you couldn’t even look him in the eye the whole way over here. You were still fucking pissed he had gawked rather than respect your privacy and turned away like a gentleman, you were going to strangle him next time you saw him and...and shit, shit, you realized you had fucked up yet again too late, more pissed off at yourself than him. Your temper getting the best of you, it was an accident for Fayth's sake. You were blowing things out of proportion. He couldn't have known you were there! You were being unreasonable, irrational, he was but a man, what did you expect?

Nope, you shook the thoughts away. You weren't doing this now, no, you weren't going to overthink things, this was the only day you could really unwind, and you were going to make the most of it! You'd worry about Auron _if_ he decided to show himself, you’d try to talk things out with him, but now wasn't an option. The celebration would officially start tomorrow and you would be busy all week.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you dolled yourself up, applying makeup that you felt suited you best, spraying yourself down with perfume, and put on silver jewelry. You combed your hair, letting it fall in loose wet strands, allowing it to air dry. You stepped into a fresh pair of panties and pulled on a black halter top dress, form fitting with a lovely view of your back yet left plenty for the imagination to contemplate, tastefully decorative in the right places and slipped on a pair of mid-calf black heeled boots. You tossed the spare keys on the coffee table and shoved the other set of keys and enough gil for a night out inside the pouch attached to the dagger holster wrapped around your thigh and were out the door.

You walked through the streets of Bevelle, enjoying the cool evening air on your skin, soaking up the sights, neon lights illuminating the dark sky above. Even if it was the day before the celebration there was quite the bustle of activity. People setting up last minute decorations and vendor carts, there was a group of musicians playing on a stage in the plaza, a large group of people had gathered to listen.

What surprised you was how many Guado and Ronso intermingled with the crowds. The two groups of sub human-like species had their own beliefs apart from Yevon, since when had they become believers? The Guado you could understand, the Lord and leader of the Guado, a name that wasn’t coming to you right now, had conceived a half-breed son with a human woman in an effort to unite the Guado with humans, bringing the teachings of Yevon to his people. His half-breed son would someday inherit the mantle of leader from his father. You were so detached from society you didn’t know when or why Ronsos had converted to Yevon, Kimahri never mentioned any of this to you.

What you did know was how eager Kimahri was to be a part of the celebration. Probably excited to be around his people once more without being looked down upon, your heart went out to your friend, you understood his pain, like he, you were an outcast too.

You arrived at your destination, a pub located in a shadier part of town, dangerously close to the red light district. With the red light district so close, men looking for some company for the night normally didn’t frequent this pub, you were glad you normally weren’t hounded for your time when you were here. The pub here was cozy, the atmosphere pleasant and inviting, a large group of friends sat talking amongst themselves in the corner and a few couples lined the wall. Single men and women hung out in the center of the establishment, enjoying a live broadcast from Luca of a blitzball game on a screen projected by a sphere high on a wall. Most of the patrons here were young adults, around your age, you fit perfectly in here with them.

You took a seat on a stool at the end of the bar, ignoring the game, you weren’t big on sports anyways, and waved the bartender over and ordered your first drink of many of the night. A cocktail, preferring fruits and syrups to mask the burn of liquor. Who in their right mind would go to a bar to just drink wheat juice mixed with a miniscule content of alcohol? As the night went on, you spent it alone, ordering drink after drink, the alcohol making your blood warm, you began to feel a buzz, well on your way to getting drunk. You weren’t a light weight by any means, but you also couldn’t say you could quite hold your liquor either, somewhere in the middle.

At some point a few men approached you, offering to buy you a drink, still somewhat sober you declined them, you weren’t so desperate to go home with just anyone, they weren’t your type anyways, your standards impossibly high. They didn’t bother you after that.

You were nursing a piña colada in hand, consumed by your thoughts, instead of letting loose and enjoying yourself, the alcohol aided in souring your mood. You almost didn’t notice someone taking a seat in the stool beside you, the curtain of your hair obscuring them from your line of sight. _Geez, those guys are persistent!_ Assuming one of the men had come back to pester you about going back to their room, you snapped at them, the fingertips of your right hand ghosting over the handle of your dagger.

“I told you I’m not interested, dude, piss off and tell your friends I’m not as easy as they think I am.”

“My, I didn’t think you were so picky,” a familiar curt response answered you.

You were in the middle of taking a swig, almost choking on the liquid going down your throat. Your head whipped to the source of the voice, finding Auron sitting in the seat next to you, your heart leaping in your throat. You weren’t ready to face him just yet!

“A-Auron? What are you doing here?” you squeaked.

“I’m here for a drink, what else? But if you’re referring to the coincidence of running into you here, no, I didn’t plan this. I used to come here before I met Braska.”

 _Before I got kicked out of the Warrior Monks,_ his voice trailed off as if to imply the sentence that naturally formed in your head.

_What were the odds you'd meet him here? Tonight?_

You knocked your head back, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp. How were you going to deal with this, with him?

Auron raised a hand, waving the bartender over, ordering drinks for you both. The bartender nodded, returning promptly with your drinks in hand, and placed two ceramic saucers in front of you and a traditional _tokkuri_ flask filled with chilled saké on the bar counter. Auron without waiting for a comment from you, filled your saucer first and then his.

You accepted the drink, sipping it lightly, saké was never your first choice but you could appreciate it. Brushing the hair out of your face, you side eyed Auron, hoping you weren’t being too obvious. You watched him sip his own drink, he looked different in the few hours you hadn’t seen him. The alcohol made your thoughts harder to process, clouding them with static like fuzz, you pushed through the haziness, noticing he was clean shaven, and he was wearing an exact replica of the chest armor and left arm bracer you found him half-dead in, the ceramic jug that hung by a bead bracelet at his hip was a new addition.

He called the bartender over again, unattaching the massive jug from his belt and handed it to the bartender, asking for him to fill it with rum. When the bartender returned, Auron handed him enough gil to cover the cost of the rum, saké, and outrageous amount drinks you consumed. Your eyebrows nearly shot into your hairline, his pockets were empty when you first found him in your yard, where had he gotten that gil from? Perhaps he had a house somewhere in Bevelle?

You sat with him in silence, he was nice enough to fill your cup so you returned the favor, pouring saké into his saucer. He thanked you under his breath, you repeated the action whenever his finished his cup until he had nearly drained the flask completely.

He was on his last refill when you finally had the courage to address the issue between you. It was the only time you were alone with him all day, swallowing your fear it was now or never.

“Auron, about earlier—”

“Don’t.”

You flinched, his voice cutting you off. Was he angry? Maybe it wasn't the right time to bring up the subject… Panic flooded your senses, you couldn’t stop the tears that welled in the corners of your eyes, hurt he was still avoiding you.

You turned to face him, it was the first time you met his stare all evening, his eye more intense and sober than you had ever seen him. The alcohol didn’t even appear to faze him. He lifted his good arm, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall. He spoke again, this time softer.

“Don’t apologize. I’m sorry for walking in on you. You’re unmarried. What I did wasn’t right.”

You could have said anything to remedy this, to mend your near nonexistent relationship with him, like ‘it’s alright,’ or ‘its my fault too,’ or ‘don’t be so hard on yourself,’ but instead the alcohol in your system possessed your tongue, surfacing your true thoughts. Your voice dropped to a whisper, loud enough for only Auron to hear.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, searching your face, wondering if you were being serious or not, and that’s when he saw it, the glazed look in your eyes, your cheeks flushed, not from embarrassment but from the alcohol.

You were drunk.

Instead of answering you he asked, “Are you drunk?”

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous.”

You denied it but he was still unconvinced. How had he not noticed earlier? You did a pretty good job at hiding it until now, he'll give you that, but he had seen plenty of drunks in his lifetime to know when he saw one. Hell, he used to travel with one.

“Let’s take you back to your room, I think you’ve had enough.”

He stood from the stool and offered you a hand. But your pride wouldn’t let you accept defeat, you jumped off the stool, your world swaying, you stumbled the moment your feet met the floor. Auron caught you by the arms before your face kissed the floor, crashing instead with his broad chest. Steadying you, he lowered his torso, pulling your arm around his shoulders, settling a hand on your wrist and the other wrapped tightly around your waist. You leaned nearly all your weight on him, he was just glad you weren’t very heavy.

Exiting the pub, no one batted an eye at the drunken display. You pouted at Auron as the doors closed behind you, “I was enjoying myself, why are we leaving so early?”

He scoffed, “Be glad I found you when I did. You probably wouldn’t appreciate one of your ‘suitors’ escorting you elsewhere instead. Where are you staying?”

Between sleepy yawns and slurred string of words you able to give him the address of the inn.

Once far away enough from the pub, he pulled you down a dark alley, eye flitting back and forth for onlookers, hoping no one got the wrong idea. Auron was above taking advantage of you in your vulnerable state. But then again, the red light district was next door, it was probably an everyday occurrence in this neighbor, if someone saw something suspicious they likely wouldn’t report it. Seating you on a staircase, he began to fiddle with the belts at his waist, loosening them so he may pull his haori off and threw it around your shoulders, wrapping it around your form. He lifted you into his arms, similar to that day on the beach. The skirt of your dress was so damn short, the last thing he wanted was for you to flash every soul that was unfortunate to cross paths with you.

He carried you back out into the street, continuing back on the path to the inn.

You lifted your arms, weakly pounding your fists against his chest, calling out to him.

“Auron, you never answered my question.”

He looked down at you, in his arms, a rare smile breaking across his face, the rumble of his chest soothing you, tempting you to close your eyes and lay your head against him.

“Go to sleep, Y/N.”

You frowned, folding your arms across your chest.

“Come on, tell me. I promise I’ll make it worth it.” You added a playful wink at the end.

He sighed, figuring you wouldn’t remember what he said tomorrow morning anyways. No harm done, right? He was curious too how would you be rewarding him.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

His rough voice reached your ears, warmth blossoming in your chest, spreading a pleasant tingle to the farthest corners of your being.

He spoke to you again, “Satisfied?”

Auron felt a smug satisfaction from your wide eyed expression, what he didn’t expect is what happened next. You reached a hand up, cupping his cheek, fingertips lightly tracing his jaw. You pressed your lips into his other cheek, the kiss soft against his skin.

You whispered, your lips still on his face, “Yes, very. Thank you for taking me home, Auron.”

That was the last thing you said to him, before your body went limp, your head buried into the crook of his neck. Your vision, already blurry, faded to black, feeling your body slipping into rolling waves, further and further, until you were dragged under the surface, sinking deeper into black waters of sleep.


	6. Guarded Trove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find yourself dreaming of a world, thought long forgotten. But is it really just a dream? Or is it reality?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Second suicide attempt, graphic descriptions of suicidal thoughts, depression, and corpses.
> 
> Edit-9/17/19: I rewrote a scene because it kept bugging me how awful it was. Sorry for not updating, I kind of lost steam. Chapter 7 has been like 1/3 written since late July, lmao whoops. I always go back and edit chapters for quality purposes so feel free to reread to your heart's content. Heads up, I rewrote chapter 1 because it was shit, lol enjoy.
> 
> Edit-2/20/20: I'm currently at 5.6k words of chapter 7 but I'm only halfway through what I had planned.

The darkness behind your eyelids eventually gave away into light, the sunny beams that shone overhead dyed the insides of your eyelids orange. The warmth of the sun caressing your skin, chasing away the frigid temperatures of the sea. Your body felt weightless, drifting along gentle swaying waves, white sand tickled your back as your body rocked back and forth, content with staying like this as long as you could. You felt like you were in a dream, it felt unreal. This was unreal, a place this peaceful couldn’t possibly exist. A place that like this only existed in memories of long ago, a memory of the distant past nearly forgotten.

Yet here you were, floating on the shore, sun beating down hard on the white sand beaches of Pelabuhan, your hometown. The sound of boat horns distant in the ports o’ call of the harbor, seagulls cawing from above, and the rustling of palm trees, swaying in the gentle sea breeze relaxing you further.

All of this felt nostalgic, like something you have lived once before. You shrugged the feeling away, of course it was familiar, you grew up here, the town helped mold you into the person you are today. What a ridiculous notion.

Settling deeper into sleep, you emptied your mind of anymore foolish thoughts, wishing to forget responsibilities and just enjoy the time to yourself to cut back and unwind. Your nap was short lived however, when you heard a distant voice calling your name. Footsteps splashing in the water before they stopped feet from you.

You heard your name called once more, this time louder and clearer.

Finally opening your eyes the first time since your nap, the face of your doe eyed younger sister came into view, a lovely smile on her face, hands behind her back. You took a moment to admire how her hair caught the light of the sun, glinting a beautiful shade similar to your own locks, the color unique exclusively to your bloodline.

“Are you just going to nap for the rest of the afternoon? It’ll be sundown soon!”

Her voice sounded a little different than when you last heard it, less higher pitched and more womanly. She was growing into a respectable young lady. She spoke again, urging you to wake up.

“Come on! Get up, sleepyhead! Weren’t you supposed to meet up with the Plunderers soon?”

That woke you up, fighting off the sleepy haze.

You got up from your spot in the water, clothes soaking wet, rising to your full height and stretched, feet still under the water, sand between your toes, waves lapping around your ankles. Your sister’s smile never left her, excitement plain on her features, happy to have you home after all this time. She was a whole head shorter than you, she had grown taller since you'd last seen her, you briefly wondered if she would end up taller than you.

You had arrived that morning to Pelabuhan from your station in Luca, it was the first time you had gotten time off from the Crusaders since you had joined them four years prior. Between cleaning up Sin’s path of destruction and keeping fiend numbers relatively low, work kept you busy and away from your family. There would be almost no opportunity for repose so long as there were casualties and injuries waiting for you to attend to. You were a toddler when you had witnessed the end of the last Calm, there were plenty of Summoners who would take on the pilgrimage, but none had been successful since then. Spira was in desperate need of a secure way to be rid of Sin forever.

You were never a magical prodigy, the option of becoming a Mage or Summoner was out of the question. Mana spirits weren’t drawn to you as naturally as you would have liked, you’d have to draw the spirits by more forceful means, such as chugging ether potions or utilizing your Focus to pull them in.

Warrior Monks weren’t an available option either since it was a men-only organization, you were quickly running out of options. You became the next best thing available to you, still wanting to serve your country under Yevon, you wanted to be a faithful Yevonite like your parents before you. You studied under the tutelage of the healers within the ranks of the Crusaders and becoming one of the best medics they had. Regardless of your decision, you were the pride and joy of your family, first born and everything your parents wanted you to be—just yourself.

You were equally as excited to see your parents as they were to see you, satisfied with simply seeing you doing what you felt was your calling. Your younger, teenage sister looked up at you, aspiring to be just like you when she became of age. Your parents raised her differently from you, wishing for her to enjoy her youth until she turned eighteen, and thus old enough to make her own decisions. Your parents felt they pushed the mantle of adulthood on you too young and were stricter with your younger sister as a result. You trained long and hard during your preteen to teenage years in the art of combat, wanting nothing more than to be accepted into the Crusaders. You received your letter of acceptance in the mail the day you turned twenty.

But regardless, you loved your family unconditionally, they were everything you could ever ask for.

That morning you had breakfast with your family and spent the rest of the morning telling them about your time in the Crusaders, they were more than eager to hear what you have been up to as of late. Before you left for the afternoon to rest from this morning’s voyage, they inquired if you had found a boyfriend much to your dismay. You awkwardly told them no, stumbling over your words the entire time, before telling them there was a childhood friend of yours you were planning to ask out when you went out tonight amongst the Pelabuhan Plunderers. Your parents smiled, nodding at the implications of what you planned to do. You loved how no matter who you decided to date, your parents would support you. You couldn’t ask for more understanding parents.

You and your sister walked back to your family home, you had taken a nap just outside their beach home, your sister kind enough to wake you before flaked on all your friends.

She ran ahead of you, stopping you in your tracks, flashing you another dazzling smile, blindingly brighter than the last one.

“Y/N, you never told me if on your travels you found the star-shaped fruit.”

You had traveled all over Spira and but never came across said fruit. When you and your sister were children you told her about a legend you once heard about a faraway island, on a faraway world, where a palm tree bore star-shaped fruits. Legend said when two people shared the fruit, their destinies would intertwine, making them a part of each other's lives forever.

You rolled your eyes at your sister, naïve for still believing in such silly fairy tales, but decided to humor her anyways.

“No, I haven’t. Don’t you remember the legend? It’s on a different planet, far away from here. Probably can’t get there without help from machina.”

She clasped her hands in front of her, swooning over her daydreams.

“I know, but it sounds so romantic being bound to another. Y/N, would you consider sharing the fruit with someone if you loved them?”

Thrown off that she would ask you such a question, you were tongue tied.

Hypothetically speaking, would you?

Catching how flustered the question made you feel, she pouted, hands on her hips, instead asking you something else, “Fine. If you won’t tell me, what do you look for in a love interest?”

At that, you returned her smile.

“A warrior.”

_Someone who could keep up with me. Someone who I can call an equal._

Satisfied, your sister ran back home to tell your mother you were leaving, reminding you to be home for dinner.

 

* * *

 

You had made it to the local bar on time, the sky appeared painted milky hues of orange and pink, there was no other more beautiful sunset than in Pelabuhan that you had seen in all your years of life.

A few of your fellow Crusaders stood off to the side of the boardwalk waiting for you. They were Pelabuhan natives, like yourself, many of them your childhood friends or younger siblings of people who you grew up with, but one thing for certain everyone attending tonight knew each other in some way.

Your friend and Crusader, Melati, waved you over, ushering you inside the bar, impatience tinged her voice, “What took you so long? The Plunderers are already inside! Get in there!”

Your other friend, Sadaf came up from behind you, smacking your shoulder playfully, joining Melati by her side, “There you are! Your Prince Charming awaits you inside.” She elbowed Melati, both of them snickering at your stiff posture. You were nervous.

You entered the bar, the smell of alcohol and sweat thick in the air, the bar cramped with teenagers and young adults alike, Melati and Sadaf following closely behind you, your two wingmen of the night.

The party had already started, all the members of the Pelabuhan Plunderers seated at a long rectangular table, being rowdy and obnoxious with drinks in hand, large golden blitzball trophy glistening in all its glory at the head of the table. They had every right to be loud tonight, it was their night to celebrate. Some Crusaders sat around them, a lot of your friends clearly drunk before you got there.

The Pelabuhan Plunderers had won the tournament last night, the first time in nearly a decade of defeat. They were the second worst team in the league, the title of longest standing losing streak belonging rightfully to the Besaid Aurochs. Their decade long curse finally lifted, last night’s championship game was close, the Plunderers nearly losing to the Luca Goers, but ended up scoring miraculously in the last quarter of the game, earning them the last point that gave them the victory. Sports fans were superstitious, right? You were lucky enough to get your time off when the league was over, you traveled to Pelabuhan with the Plunderers earlier that day.

You had friends among them, yes, but you were never a big sports fan. They were nice enough to invite you to their homecoming celebration, you were all childhood friends after all, most of your friends growing up joined the Plunderers or enlisted to be a Crusader. But the reunion wasn’t the real reason you came. Being stationed in Luca, you grew closer to one of the Plunderers, a childhood friend of yours and the only woman on the team.

You were going to ask her out tonight. You were in love with Eshaal.

You gazed at her from across the bar, moving with your friends to get some drinks before taking a seat. She was beautiful, her umber colored skin contoured by the green neon lights of the bar, accentuating the light muscles of her arms, her hip-length black wavy hair was covered in confetti, her Plunderer uniform was drenched in champagne, even so, you found her enticing.

Your eyes met hers, flashing you a full-lipped smile, looking at you from beneath fluttering eyelashes and golden eyeshadow, she invited you to come sit with her with just her eyes alone. You had a feeling she felt the same way about you. Confidence filling you, you parted with Melati and Sadaf, chattering excitedly that you were getting somewhere, taking your drink with you over to Eshaal.

Happiness is a fleeting thing, fate being ever cruel, tore blossoming relationships from your grasp that night along with everything you loved.

You were halfway across the bar when you heard it. A blood curdling wail that shook the ground beneath you from the sound alone, filling your body with a sense of impending doom, warning you to flee and save yourself.

Your heartbeat stopped momentarily, fear flooding your entire body.

You had never been caught in the middle of Sin’s wrath.

Death had come to reap souls.

You were scared, were you going to die?

You froze, time moving in slow motion, watching it all happen before your very eyes.

The next thing that followed after the wail was a massive sinscale crashing through the roof of the bar, tearing planks from their nails, sending splinters raining down on everyone, the scale plummeting into the center of the bar, taking everything in its path with it.

Including Eshaal.

The scale was launched with such a terrible force, it broke through the floor, taking out the entire table where the blitzball team was seated, pulling them down into the waters below.

It took everyone around you a moment to realize what was happening, mere seconds ticking by but it felt like hours, before everyone began moving into action. Some screamed, others moved to file out of the exit, their emergency training teaching them buildings were unsafe and to move into an open field.

Your own training kicking in, the instinct to save those who had fallen overrode the initial fear, you were all but two steps from the gaping hole in the floor when a thin red ray of energy manifested from above, slicing through the bar floor, dividing the building cleanly in half. The wooden floor creaked and groaned, before massive explosions filled the space where the beam landed its mark, the impact of the explosions sending you flying backward, your back hitting a white concrete wall. The back of your skull slammed into something, a table or chair, could have been anything really—you weren’t certain what—whatever it was, the pain shot through the base of your skull, white, hot and agonizing, flecks of light dancing in your eyesight, your body crumpling uselessly in a heap of limbs.

The last thing you saw before your vision faded from white to black, was the barrage of sinscales raining from above, and farther behind that still, the ominous black shadow that belong to Sin, like a wrathful God seeking a sinner’s retribution, looking on from high above the heavens while the mortals below scrambled in fear.

Screams once perfectly audible, warbled into a distorted mess, until your eyes closed, plunging your world once more into darkness and then...nothing.

 

* * *

 

…

…

…

…

You awoke shivering, cold and partially submerged in sea water. Your body stuck beneath a tangled mess of splintered planks and ruined furniture.

How long were you out for?

You tried to free yourself from the debris, pain shooting up your spine, everything _hurt_ like hell, a terrible skull splitting headache felt like you got clonked up top your head with a sledge hammer. You raised a pruny hand to the back of your head, finding a deep gash and blood thickly crusted over your hair.

_Oh yeah, that felt like it required stitches._

Using what feeble remaining strength you had, you pry yourself free with effort, exhausted after so many tries, you just wanted to close your eyes and sleep. Sleep was the last thing you should do right now, as a medic you knew you could fall into a deep coma if you suffered brain damage, your brain certainly _felt_ like it got rattled pretty bad. You turned to swim to shore when you felt a light tap against your lower back.

You peered down, curious what had bumped you.

Jumping back, you let out a scream, falling into the water and scrambled away from the corpse.

Wide-eyed you stared, scared out of your wits at the body that belonged to a once live member of the Plunderers. His facial expression mirrored your own horrified expression, eyes bulging, mouth agape, frozen in an eternally soundless scream.

That’s when the situation truly sunk in.

Like a switch had flipped somewhere.

You were alive.

You took a deep breath, savoring the air that filled your lungs.

A little battered, but giving yourself a once over inventory check, you were in one piece.

Others weren’t so lucky, searching through the darkness of the night, you found other floating bodies amongst the debris of the buildings. Eyeing a few different corpses, some were missing limbs, others unfortunate to be cleaved in half, blood spilling into the water where the lifeless bodies lay. And then there were a terrifying few that were unrecognizable masses of flesh, blood, and bone. Shuddering, you turned away, wanting to get away from this place as soon as possible.

This time, you swam to shore without delay, careful not to bump anymore bodies.

Your feet met solid ground, you gazed far into the horizon, shocked to still see Sin lingering, cloaked in rumbling thunder and rolling gray clouds, before turning its back and disappearing from whence it came. As if mocking your injuries as an act of mercy, telling you and everyone else who survived to repent before it was too late.

The still night air returned, intense barometric pressure disappearing along with Sin, the sound of lapping waves and chirping crickets filled the quiet space as if it was simply another night. As if death and destruction didn't cover the land as far as the eye could see.

You were devastated.

It was a new moon, darkness made it difficult to discern the night clearly. But looking around, every last building and structure was in ruins, nothing survived. They were only recognizable to you because you were familiar with the town's layout. The schoolhouse where you went to school growing up, stores where you shopped for groceries, the residential area where all your friends with their families lived, even the miles of harbor—Pelabuhan was a large port town where lots of trade took place—everything, everything...gone. You couldn't believe it.

How could your world fall apart in a matter of hours?

In the distance you saw flickering torches in the town's plaza, the only available light source in the entire town, the rest of it enveloped in a thick blanket of darkness.

Trudging your exhausted body over to the source of light, fighting off sleep and pain every step of the way, you finally made it to a bonfire burning brightly, torches lining the edge of the plaza, activity bustling. People of your town, all faces you recognize, ran to and fro, gathering what supplies they could find, passing out things such as blankets and food, and taking headcount of those still alive. Others looking worse for wear, sat on makeshift benches made of piles of plywood, expressions somber, some tending to their wounds, others with faces full of disbelief.

You stood there for who knows how long, in the middle of the plaza, watching the people pass you like you didn’t exist, much too busy to notice a single woman standing there perplexed, looking lost and out of place.

You were watching a mother soothing her crying child when you heard someone call your name.

“Y/N! You’re alive! Thank the Fayth!”

You turned toward the source of the voice, finding it was Melati jogging toward you, Sadaf behind her, right arm wrapped in cloth, forming makeshift bandages, using whatever was currently available. Melati threw her arms around your shoulders, giving you a bone crushing hug. Sadaf gave you a lazy half-hug with her good arm.

Melati detached herself from you, clasping one of your hands in both of hers.

“You disappeared when the bar exploded, and we couldn’t find you in the wreckage, we were so worried, we thought that maybe...maybe you—that maybe you were…”

Tears streamed down her tan face, scrunching up her freckled nose, she hiccuped, unable to complete her sentence, choking on her words. Sadaf cut in, slightly more composed despite being injured.

“You’re hurt.” She gestured to the back of your head with her left hand. “If we’re going to get to work, you need to take care of that first.”

Sadaf took you by your free hand, and pried one of Melati’s hands from yours, leading the three of you to a couple tents made of plain white sheets and poles. Sadaf broke off, going to fetch a healer, promising to return shortly.

While you waited, you spoke to Melati.

“Melati, are these all the survivors?

She sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Yes. The priests of Pelabuhan Temple are getting the situation under control, they’ve already called for aid, but they won’t get here until morning.”

“That can’t be… What of the Plunderers? Did any of them make it?”

“Oh, Y/N…” She started sobbing again. “They’re all dead.”

The news felt like a punch to the gut. You were at a loss for words. Your body ached, throbbing painfully, reminding you weren’t able to walk out of this unscathed. You felt like the sky was crashing down on you, suffocating you under its weight. This was a dream, yes that was it, none of this felt real, like it was actually happening. Simply a dream where you would wake up drenched in your own sweat. Your mind fabricated this elaborate dream, morphing it into one of your greatest fears, your worst nightmare made a reality.

Except it wasn’t a dream, and you weren’t waking up.

All of them, dead.

They were alive just a few hours ago, like you are now.

Still alive.

Still breathing.

_Then why me? Why am I still alive?_

Melati shouted your name, a hand on either shoulder, physically shaking you out of the thoughts that threatened to devour you.

“I recognize that look on your face, you’re overthinking things again. Y/N, don’t you dare doubt yourself at a time like this, we’re Crusaders. We have a job to do, you can’t run off on us, we’re the first responders here. We need to provide aid to all these people—whether we were close to them or not.”

She was right. This was the reason you signed up to the Crusaders. Just because it was _your_ hometown that was destroyed, didn’t change anything.

_But what of your family? Where are they?_

Melati shook you again.

“Y/N! Stop thinking! I know what you’re thinking! You’ll run into your family while on the job! You’ll have to wait until morning to look for them otherwise. I’m worried about my family too! You aren’t the only one!”

Dammit, she was right.

Sadaf returned with the lead healer of Pelabuhan Temple after that, an elegant woman in her forties, robes billowing behind her. The lead healer promptly got to work taking vitals, recording your symptoms and applying a salve that doubled as an antiseptic and anesthesia, and stitching the gash at the back of your head shut.

She instructed you to assist her healing others once the anesthesia wore off, you were busy tending to people’s wounds for the rest of the night until the sun rose.

Melati and Sadaf were warriors, not medics, they were helping build temporary shelter elsewhere in the plaza with the other Crusaders.

You were alone with your thoughts.

That night you didn’t get any sleep.

 

* * *

 

When morning came, the sun barely breaking from the eastern horizon, you were finally relieved of your duties. You slipped away, sprinting for your family’s beach house, jumping over debris in your way. You saw plenty of survivors, some even the neighbors surrounding your family home, but neither your parents or your sister ever turned up in the plaza.

You didn’t tell anyone where you’d gone, lest Melati or Sadaf tried stop you, you were eager to find out. You had to know if your family survived! The right to know eating at you, demanding to know the truth.

Out of breath and panting heavily, you stopped in front of the collapsed structure that was once your childhood home.

Your feet padded over the sand of the beach, taking slow, careful steps.

Burn marks littered the ground where Sin had scorched the Earth with its beams of energy, the heat of the beams so intense, it turned the sand in its path into glass. You had to watch your step, or you’d step on a piece of glass and embed itself into the flesh of your foot.

Getting closer, a silvery glint, reflecting off the morning sun caught your attention, but upon closer inspection all hope left you.

A single hand was visible beneath the mountains of rubble. A silver band on the ring finger of that disembodied hand, pale and stiff.

_That ring…_

Your mother’s wedding band.

_No…_

_No, no, no!_

_Not them…_

_Why? WHY?_

You didn’t know when you started screaming, some time while your head felt like it was going to burst, overwhelmed with the events of last night leading up to now, your harrowing wails filling the quiet morning.

You screamed and screamed for what felt like forever until your voice became hoarse and your knees gave out from underneath you, knees buckling forward, hitting the sand and glass. In anger you punched the glass shards on the beach repeatedly until your knuckles were a bloody mess. Satisfied only when the pain in your hands reminded you that _you were still alive. Still here._

Everything was taken from you. Your family, your crush, your trove of memories where you grew up. What else was left to take?

You had nothing left to take.

You were _nothing._

Cries that weren’t yours began to fill your ears, followed by a sad song, like a prayer. _The Hymn of the Fayth,_ you realized. The survivors of the town stood in the plaza, heads bowed, paying respects to their dead, mourning.

You were so caught up in your own grief you didn’t notice the stranger that strode up beside you.

You looked up from your spot on the ground, seeing a blue haired boy, hair spiked in the strangest way imaginable, the same age as your younger sister. He appeared human, but portions of his body looked like gnarled bark, like an ancient tree. A Guado perhaps? He carried an air of grace you had never seen in someone his age, the robes that trailed behind him a rich shade of blue and green with golden embroidery. He was beautiful.

He stopped beside you, intricate staff in hand. His voice soothing and velvety.

“Get up. Don’t stop fighting.”

“Huh?”

You furrowed your brows. Was this strange looking boy talking to you? You whipped your head around, checking if maybe he was talking to someone else, confirming that you two were indeed alone.

Not waiting for a proper response from you, the boy walked to the edge of the shore, feet bare.

Blue mana gathering beneath the soles of his feet, he stepped into the water, but shockingly enough he didn't sink to the bottom like you expected, he stepped onto the surface of the water like it was solid ground! You had to rub your eyes in disbelief, were they deceiving you? Was this really happening?

The boy never turned to face you, even after he heard your surprised shriek, walking further out to sea. Once he reached a respectable distance from the shore, he raised his staff high above his head. Holding your breath, you waited to see what he did next. The Hymn of the Fayth coming from the plaza grew louder in volume. He began to twirl the staff around him, his body spinning with it, lifting his feet in a dance, his robes flowing around him, fluttering like wings, limbs weaving in and out of his movements, hips swaying, hypnotizing you with the beauty of the dance. He completed another pirouette when in that moment, the bonfire and all the torches in the plaza roared to life, the flames burning a deep azure. The water beneath him rippled, shooting skyward like a geyser, taking the boy into the sky with it, his dance never faltering.

_Oh. He’s a Summoner._

The whole thing was serene, it stole your breath away, you watched in amazement.

Ribbons of lights appeared in your vision, rainbow in color, rising from within the rubble, moving toward the boy, dancing with him, surrounding him in their pale glow.

_Pyreflies._

_He is sending them._

He waved his staff a few more times, directing the pyreflies to fly higher in the sky. When the souls of the dead—the pyreflies—all gathered above him, the boy pointed his staff straight up, leading them to one spot, before they exploded in a magnificent display of lights and color, the pyreflies dispersed and faded away into nothingness. You were dazzled, never have you ever witnessed a sending.

When he was done, the geyser of water melted back into the sea, setting him down gently. He didn't return to where you sat, instead walking straight back to the plaza. Somehow the amount of people in the plaza had increased while you were away, you assumed the boy came with whatever aid the priests had called for. You had never seen him before. You recognized a mixture of Crusaders you had met before and ones you didn’t know and even a group of ten or so Warrior Monks.

You waited there for a little longer, totally out of it, state of mind on the fringes. You regained strength in your legs eventually and nearly dragged your body back to the plaza.

Melati and Sadaf were waiting for you to get back, scolding you for causing harm to yourself. You lied to their faces, assuring them you cut your knuckles whilst trying to pull your family out of the rubble. They didn't buy it, of course. They were on to your self harming tendencies.

The next few days were hectic blur, your mind felt numb, simply going through the motions, your body felt like it was running on autopilot—despite being caught in the eye of the storm, the higher ups of the Crusaders ordered you and everyone present that night at the bar to provide relief aid to the people of Pelabuhan. You spent the days mostly tending to the wounded, and when you were done with that, you helped by pulling bodies out of the water and from beneath the town remains, the bodies of the dead deserved a proper burial. While you were doing that, Melati, Sadaf, and the other Crusaders were building caskets in the plaza, you hardly had seen them during that time, only coming together for meals, and even then you were all too exhausted to make conversation.

You hardly ever finished your meals and rarely got a full night’s rest during those days, the horrified expressions of the dead and disturbingly swollen purple bodies haunted you every waking moment, even in your sleep, the images never truly leaving you. All of them people you once knew, once shared memories with, they were your neighbors, friends, store owners, they watched you grow into the woman you are today, you could recall every single last person’s name. How could you forget such detailed trauma?

You were suffering too, but the Crusaders didn’t allow you a moment to rest, there was no one to vent to, no one to confide your feelings to during your misery. You felt like you were on your own.

And then one day you began to hear the furious whispers in passing, murmurs belonging to the temple priests and non-natives of Pelabuhan. They said the Maesters were setting Pelabuhan as an example for disobedience of Yevon. The town was destroyed for accepting imported machina from Bikanel and using it in everyday tasks—a deed very forbidden in Yevonite culture. You, and every Pelabuhan native were traitors to all of Spira, all of you, sinners unworthy of redemption. The accusations were false, you knew it in your heart, the port town stood on an island off the coast of Spira’s mainland, directly west of the Macalania Forest and east of the Al-Bhed’s Bikanel island. Your island served as a deterrent to Al-Bhedian people from setting foot on the continent. Very few managed to slip through the cracks, you knew your people were loyal Yevonites.

The Maesters had it twisted, _they_ were the ones who had betrayed the people of Pelabuhan, how dare they use you and your people as a scapegoat.

All these factors played a role in your next decision, the weight of them becoming too much for you, consuming you. Your thoughts, your feelings, your emotions, they all became too much for you to bear, overwhelming you in a spiral of depression where you were caught in its center with no escape.

You were at the end of your rope, and with no one to turn to, one day you snapped.

 

* * *

 

You had made your choice, your absolution. After brief planning you found yourself standing here.

This is what you wanted.

You needed release of this pain.

You needn’t worry, it would all be over soon.

The cold wind that chilly night was harsh, whipping your hair wildly across your face and neck, the sting hardly bothering you. Your cheeks and fingers felt like ice, but you didn’t care, ignoring your body’s natural want to seek warmth. Your eyes, dreary and lifeless, peered down below to your objective.

This was the best spot in all of Pelabuhan to visit, normally you’d see the entire panorama filled with beach houses, white pristine architecture, tall palm trees, the harbor filled to its limits with docked boats, and miles of lucent ocean. It was truly a sight to behold. But tonight, only destruction was visible, you finally understood the full extent of Sin’s judgement. From town you couldn’t see the boats overturned in the harbor, or the lighthouse—now nothing but a pile of rubbish, and not a single fisherman in sight. Before Sin’s appearance, this was your most favorite spot to visit, it was romantic.

But not tonight, not in your current state of mind. You came here with a goal in mind.

This is what you wanted.

You were exceptionally calm despite staring down death in the face. Dragging your feet closer to the edge, you inched your way forward slowly. The stars twinkling in the night sky above, the sound of crashing waves reached your ears, you were on a cliff overlooking Pelabuhan, angled perfectly to face the town, but below was a steep cliff, about a 50 foot plunge straight down into the ocean. You would survive the fall if you dove of course—but not here, not when there were jagged, sharp rocks waiting for you at the bottom, like a pit of spikes. They would impale you if you jumped, promising a swift death. Waves continued to crash violently against the cliff, sending sea spray your way, coating your face with salt water.

How ironic that you would end it here, in the most beautiful spot in all of Spira, your greatest treasure.

You inched your way closer. Right at the point of no return.

You took a deep breath, cold seeping into your bones, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

_I don’t matter._

_This is what I want._

You repeated your mantra in your head for the umpteenth time tonight. You were close enough now to see the black, churning waters below, like a starving beast demanding a sacrificial lamb, begging to be fed fresh blood.

A strong current of wind blasted from behind, nearly pushing you over the edge, you momentarily lost your balance before steadying yourself, an invisible hand encouraging you, tempting you with the sweet release of death.

_This was all that was left to do, no turning back now._

You took another step, raising your right foot, feeling the empty air above the raging water.

_Just a little bit more, just take the plunge, it's not that difficult…_

Taking another deep breath, icy air filling your lungs, this was it, you were going to do it, you were going to jump—

“You don’t want to do that.”

The voice you heard was the same one from a few days ago, it sounded like velvet and silk and many other soft, fine materials. If it was the last thing you heard before you died, then you were happy to just drown in the sound of it. It spoke again, beckoning you.

“Please come back here. I would like to have a nice conversation with a lovely lady such as yourself.”

Unconsciously, you took a step back, looking over your shoulder, shocked to see someone else here. Startled, your shoulders jumped noticeably. It was him, the Summoner from a few days ago. His pale blue eyes watching you intently.

He held a large, clawed hand toward you, outstretched like a gentlemen asking for a lady’s hand.

You stayed silent, eyes still on him, wondering what he planned to do next.

“Good evening. Pleasant night, isn’t it? As beautiful as it is, it's still much too dangerous for a lady to be out without an escort. Mind if I join you?”

Oh, he was suave.

But that didn’t matter in this moment, you cursed him, you cursed yourself for hesitating. _Why?! Why tonight of all days?! Why did he have to ruin this?_ This boy's sudden appearance made feelings of uncertainty surface, doubting yourself.

You turned your back to him, facing death once more. That boy didn’t matter, this was your only chance at taking your own life and he had ruined it! Anger burned within you, smoldering, scalding hot in your very core. You were so focused you didn’t even hear him approaching, not once, but twice! Shame flooded you, you were better than this!

This time he called out louder.

“What is your name?”

You had had enough. His sweet words stung more than all the pain you felt before this point.

_I don’t deserve your kindness._

“Shut up.” Your voice cut through the air, sharp and laced with venom. Hatred dripping from your lips. “Shut the fuck up, you don’t know me.”

He paused, tilting his head slightly.

“I would like to get to know you. Why don’t you come over here so we can talk?”

Your shoulders heaved, body shaking, you stared below, suddenly regretting your position, much too close to the edge for comfort.

Noticing your anxiety, his voice lowered an octave, sweet and alluring.

“Please, I just want to help. Let me talk to you.”

Breathing harder, you gasped for breath, feeling like your chest was going to cave in, oxygen insufficiently filling your lungs, you felt like your were suffocating, drowning under the pressure of your actions.

Between pants you managed to get out, “Y/N.”

His voice sounded like it had gotten closer. Again, he had snuck up on you during your moment of weakness.

“What a lovely name. Well Y/N, it appears you might need help. Would you like me to assist you?”

Your heart pounded against your ribcage like a drum, feeling like it was going to beat out of your chest. Anger and shamed clashed within you, your resolve wavering.

_Is this truly...what I want?_

He made you doubt yourself, you didn’t know what you wanted anymore.

All you knew was that was you were tired, and weak, and everything hurt and you just wanted your life back. You wanted to be happy again.

Your vision became blurry, flooding with tears, fat droplets falling into the black abyss below and disappearing into the void.

_That could be you._

Your knees wobbled, hands reaching out from something to latch onto—safety, support, anything!

“I can’t...”

He sounded closer even still.

“Can’t what?”

You clenched you eyes shut, hyperventilating at this point. Your voice grew into a shout, surprised all of Pelabuhan didn’t hear you.

“I can’t do this anymore! I can’t live on like this! I’ve lost everything, everyone I ever loved… Gone! There is no reason for me to go on, everything I’ve amounted to, everything I’ve worked hard for...where did it all go? I’m broken, shattered...I don’t want to live without them...I don't want to hear those false accusations, my people aren't traitors...I...I can't stand it anymore…I don't want to go on anymore.”

You wept loud and ugly, hiccups racking your whole body, your frame trembling violently, you begged him for help.

"Please, get me away from here…"

That's when you felt his big, warm hand enveloping yours, gently pulling you away from the cliff, he ushered you away from the edge, away from the danger below.

You let him take you, body much too tired to keep fighting. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, despite being only sixteen, the boy towered over you. You shivered and shook, crying into his bare chest, melting into the warmth of his touch, you didn’t realize how _freezing_ you were until you felt him.

He lowered his lips to your ear, shushing you softly. One of his hands found purchase, burying itself within your hair, cradling the back of your head.

“I know, I know it hurts. You’ve been through alot, too much for one person to bear alone. It’s okay.”

“I...I don’t want to be alone…”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m here for you. You’re safe now.”

“Please don’t leave me…”

“I won’t.”

You two stayed like that until your sobs died down and your grip loosened around his torso, your body losing its strength, finally coming down from the adrenaline rush, senses returning to you.

You had no idea who this stranger was, but you were happy he saved you. Stopped you from committing the ultimate mistake, you were grateful.

When you began to sober up some, you whispered.

“I don’t even know your name.”

He smiled, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Seymour. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

You repeated his name, testing the way it felt tumbling from your lips.

This heartfelt moment was interrupted when you heard heavy boot falls quickly approaching you, Seymour and you broke your embrace to turn toward a pair of Warrior Monks emerging from beyond the foliage. They stopped in front of you both, bowing deeply, offering the Yevon prayer.

“Pardon the intrusion, Lord Seymour! The high priest of Pelabuhan awaits you for the trials.”

You stared at Seymour with big eyes, begging him to not leave you, funny how not so long ago you hated his guts. He gave you a gentle smile, raising your hand to kiss your knuckles.

“I apologize for leaving so soon, Y/N.” His lips lingered unnecessarily longer than what was considered appropriate. “I have an idea. How about I meet you back at my personal tent after I’m finished with business? We can talk until the sun rises, how does that sound?”

You blushed, anyone listening in on what he said could get the wrong idea, eyes wandering to meet the stare of the two monks patiently waiting, but they remained impassive. A gut feeling deep within you told you Seymour didn’t have bad intentions with you, he genuinely wanted to help you.

Deciding that you too, wanted to get to know the mystery boy who saved you, you nodded.

“Alright, I would like that.”

“Perfect.”

Seymour gestured toward the two men standing at attention, awaiting orders—a man with a scraggly brown beard, facial hair failing to hide his round, baby face, giving him the appearance of someone kind and gentle. He was as generic looking as they came like the other rank and file monks. The other, had black hair, immaculately styled and slicked back, a few flyaways still visible beneath his ridiculous orange helmet; piercing brown eyes watching you intently from beneath the visor of the helmet, making you feel uncomfortable from the intensity his gaze.

Both men appeared closer in age to you than Seymour. Seymour continued, “This is Wen and Auron—two of the best the Warrior Monks have to offer, you can trust them to protect you in my absence. They will show you to my tent, please wait for me until I return. Oh, and Y/N?”

You had to crane your neck to meet Seymour’s eyes, fucking kid was tall! His lips quirked at the ends, smiling in the same moment you had said your thoughts in your head. That was weird, had he heard you? People couldn’t like, mind read could they? Was it a Guado thing?

He lightly touched your shoulder, pale blue eyes mesmerizing.

“No more crazy stunts, okay?”

You didn’t know how to respond to that so you nodded your head in affirmation.

He turned away from you, robes flowing behind his elegant stride, leaving you alone with a different set of strangers.

The man with the beard stepped closer to you, gesturing for you to follow him.

“This way ma’am, if you would please.”

You followed behind the bearded monk—Wen, you believed, the other scarier looking monk falling in line with his companion wordlessly.

They took you to a fancy looking tent a ways away from the main plaza, somewhat deep into the tropical forest that surrounded Pelabuhan, conveniently on the way to the temple. Your people would probably cause an uproar if they know the Summoner was traveling in luxury when they were on the verge of starvation. It would be another few days before supplies would start arriving.

The two monks stopped in front of the tent, waiting for you to dismiss them.

You stepped over the doormat, a hand holding open the tent flap when a question formed in your mind. You faced your escorts, letting go of the flap.

“Excuse me, what kind of person is Seymour?”

The two monks exchanged looks, question catching them out of the loop.

You waited patiently as a silent conversation took place between them, a series of grunts exchanged before the scary looking man sighed loudly, shaking his head.

Wen cleared his throat, a fist over his mouth and the other hand clasped behind his back.

“Lord Seymour is next in line to lead the Guado People, he’s an important aspect to unify the Guado and humans. You should consider yourself privileged, Lord Seymour is a very private person.”

You smiled meekly, somewhat embarrassed you had spoken up to begin with.

“Ah, okay. I’ll keep that in mind. You may go.”

“Understood. Please stay here until Lord Seymour returns.”

With that, Wen bowed, taking his leave, disappearing behind a row of palm trees.

The other man— _what was his name again?_ —stayed behind eyeing you warily, unreadable facial expression between wanting to tell you something or keeping his mouth shut, that much you can tell. He was attractive, which made it harder for you maintain eye contact with him. You kept your head down, staring at your sandals rather than him. Why did his stare make you feel so self conscious? You didn’t even know him.

You stood in the same spot a moment longer before his stare unnerved you further. You stuttered an excuse, ducking your head to flee into the safety of the tent.

“I-I really must be going…”

A hand caught you, stopping you mid step, gasping when the man pulled you close, getting in your space, his warm breath tickling your neck.

“Wait.” That was the first time you heard him speak. “I don’t know why Seymour would waste his time comforting some _girl_ , but you better watch yourself around him. He’s not the person he claims to be.”

At first, the deep rumble of his voice had you entranced, flushing at his proximity, but the words that came out of his mouth snapped you back to the reality of what was happening.

You pulled your wrist out his grasp, matching his icy glare.

“Unhand me! I can take care of myself just fine without the help of some _brute_. Mind your own business!”

_Handsome or not, what an ass!_

He took a step back, surprise flashing in his features for the briefest of moments before returning to the same sharp gaze from earlier. He spoke again, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Heed my warning. Don’t take that kid lightly, Seymour is not to be trusted.”

"What makes you think you can decide who I can or cannot interact with? Why are you so concerned about me?”

His eyes flickered to the direction in which Wen marched off to.

He sighed. “Look, just stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever. Just piss off already.” You bit back.

He looked like he was going to say something else when Wen called out to him.

“Auron! What’s taking you so long? We got to head back to report.”

The man gave you another once over, and answered Wen from over his shoulder.

“I’m right behind you, Kinoc.”

Without another glance, he turned to follow after his friend.

You stood there, unmoving, confused by the man’s forwardness.

_That was weird. The audacity! We’re the same age, how dare he belittle me!_

Now wasn’t the time, but you could not stop yourself from making the comparison between the men you had just met today. If Seymour’s voice was silk, then that man’s voice was honey. An unexplainable part of you desired to hear him say your name at least once. You felt foolish for allowing yourself to think that way.

You shook your head clear of anymore strange encounters with strange men and slipped into the tent.

You waited for a while before Seymour finally returned, late into the night. That night, you told him about yourself. Sharing with him your childhood, your family, your dreams and aspirations. You told him about your travels with the Crusaders, about Duster and all your friends within the Crusaders. You told him how you were unhappy, how the other Crusaders expected a lot out of you in this crisis, how that and all the loss you experienced had pushed you over the edge.

You cried and laughed with Seymour, recalling happy memories and sad ones alike. He stayed by you all night, like he promised, listening to you, never interrupting you, this is what you needed. Someone to vent to, someone who simply listened, never judging you. You felt so comfortable with him, you felt like you could open up without shame. You fell asleep when the sun rose, Seymour never complaining that you slept on his bed, waking up later that day late into the afternoon. And he even offered you to stay in his tent while you recovered. You accepted, not wanting to face the Crusaders so soon. The same two Warrior Monks would bring you meals, and Seymour would eat with you.

Seymour had duties to attend to during the day, only seeing you for meals and in the evening when he was done. You only got to speak to him then, leaving you alone with your thoughts most of the day, giving plenty of time to sort and organize them and finally coming up with a finite solution.

 

* * *

 

One morning, you slipped out of the tent, right after Seymour had left for the day. You snuck around the forest, careful not to bump into any Warrior Monks while you were looking for a particular one, the area was crawling with them, it seemed reinforcements had arrived.

You sought Wen, keeping an eye out for the brown bearded man you had grown familiar with over the last few days, preferring him over his less-than-friendly companion. You were too absorbed peering out toward the temple from behind some brush, when a hand slapped over your mouth, pulling you away from the clearing, deeper into the forest, your back hitting someone’s solid chest. Panic rising within you, you would have screamed had it not been for the hand over your mouth, flailing your arms erratically.

“Hey, calm down. What are you doing out here? Aren’t you supposed to be back at the tent?”

You paused, ceasing your flailing. It was him—the scary man!

_Dammit, why for the life of me, can I NOT remember his name?_

You breathed a sigh of relief, placing a hand over your pounding heart. When the man let you go, you turned to glare up at him.

“You! Don’t just sneak up on people like that, what’s wrong with you? What if I was armed?”

He scowled.

“It’s my job to report any suspicious activity, if you don’t tell me what you’re doing I’ll turn you in to Seymour. It’s obvious you’re avoiding him, girl.”

_There was that name again, what's with this irritating man and him underestimating me?_

If you weren’t in a rush to get off the island, you’d show him just who he is dealing with!

You bit back a retort, not wanting to get on the man’s bad side, if you couldn’t find Wen, mystery man would have to do. You took a deep breath, composing yourself, keeping a tight rein on your anger, it was the last thing you need to lose control of right now.

“I need you to send a message to Seymour for me, later today, when I’ve gotten far away enough from here. I’m only going to tell you once so listen carefully, got it?”

He grunted, acknowledging what you had said. You didn’t realize how close you were standing, nearly chest to chest, until the silence grew uncomfortable for you. His piercing eyes watched you, waiting expectantly, you almost lost your nerve from just his stare. Why did such an attractive man have to be such an ass?

“Tell Seymour, I’ve made up my mind, I’m leaving the Crusaders for good. I’m not going to get better if I stay with them, the people are causing me more harm than good. So tell him, I need some time to myself. I don’t want him to come looking for me, I’ll come find him when I’m ready.”

The man raised a perfect eyebrow—how can a man manage to be pretty and intimidating at the same time? It wasn’t fair.

You faltered, blush creeping up your cheeks.

“L-Look, just pass on the message, yeah? Seymour will understand. Don’t tell anyone else you saw me out here, or...or there will be hell to pay!”

You frowned at him, crossing your arms across your chest, trying appear as intimidating as he—and failing.

The man chuckled, one corner of his lips twitching into a smirk.

Your frown deepened, “Quit making fun of me! Whatever, pass the message or not, I really don’t care.”

You turned your back on the man, certain you’d seen the last of him, _what an annoying man!_ Disappearing into the foliage, you broke into a sprint, intending to get as far away from here as possible.

Seymour had helped you a lot over the last few days, being endlessly patient with you while you sorted out your feelings, but you didn’t want to disappoint him, even the thought of it was unbearable. You didn't want to be a burden on him any longer that you already had, you felt like you had overstayed your welcome even though Seymour hadn't explicitly told you so.

The hardest part was getting off the island, it was the reason why all aid was delayed in getting here. Finding some boats parked in the docks on the opposite side of the island, you stole the smallest boat you could find, bearing the Warrior Monk’s insignia. Shamelessly, you rode it out to Spira’s mainland even though it took you a few tries to get it to work, apparently it was machina powered, you docked it in a harbor west of Bevelle, beelining it for the city to stock up on supplies, stealing from fiends along the way to pay for the expenses.

You made it to the city, bloody, battered, and starving, but in one piece. An Al-Bhedian man took pity on your horrible condition and offered to feed you and stay at his chain of inns whilst you recovered, which you accepted graciously. You were grateful for all the kind people you had met recently. Strength regained, you left a fat stack of gil you stole from the fiends on your bed and left without a word.

You were on the road again, your destination was the Crusader compound. There, you stayed for a few weeks, arguing back and forth with your leaders, sometimes pleading you to stay, other times ordering you. Your leaders even tried a different approach, telling you you were one of the greatest healers Spira had ever seen, attempting to coax you into reconsidering, telling you were better off putting your gift to use that leaving it to rot, untouched.

You met up with those who you believed to be your close friends within the Crusader compound during your stay there, thinking that perhaps they understood what you were going through. They didn’t. Instead they spewed insulting words at you, blaming you for your own mental illness. Reprimanding you for being “crazy” enough to attempt to take your own life, saying it was your fault for letting the carnage of Sin get to you, calling you weak, telling you in was in your job description and to “get over it.” The betrayal from the Crusaders had you teetering that dangerous edge again, considering the same solution, but this time, Seymour wasn’t here to save you.

That was the final straw, you finally had enough of the abuse, cutting your losses, you left with all your meager possessions in a small rucksack, vowing to cut ties with those who had hurt you.

You were a two days walk from the compound when you received a message from Captain Lucil, surprised that she had asked you to take Duster with you and not begging you to stay like the others. It was an unexpected request.

With Duster now in your possession, you were grateful to still have one loyal friend remaining, you traveled Spira some, on a journey to do some soul searching, your quest coming to a close back in Bevelle. There, you set up a small clinic in a leased building in the shopping district of the city, you did that for half a year before you realized you needed time away from people, your illness showing no signs of improving. You got the idea a day you were doing shopping in the marketplace, spotting a book on botany and herbology in the window display of a bookstore.

Purchasing the book, you stayed up that night reading it, studying the different kinds of medicinal plants and fungi.

You informed your patients that you were planning on closing the clinic, the patients becoming loyal in the short time of them being under your care. Your clinic got popular through word of mouth alone, they continued seeking your services when you retreated into the wilderness, understanding that city life just wasn’t for you. Through connections of your patients, you were able to hire workers to build your home beyond the Calm Lands. Apparently you weren’t the only one with the same idea, moving into your new home, you found you had plenty of neighbors out in the forest. There was this strange, unspoken rule implemented before you got there, where if you didn’t bother them, they would respect your privacy and you were fine with that.

Quickly, you got the hang of things, you had learned survival skills when you were with the Crusaders, things like hunting for game, big or small came natural to you. You also utilized your Chocobo wrangling and breeding skills you learned, catching a group of six Chocobos from the wild, some of the Chocobos at the compound were bred by you. You were never a fan of tea, until you gained some bad alcoholic habits after you left Pelabuhan, getting drunk nearly every night while soul searching. Foraging for tea leaves and learning the art of tea making helped you kick those bad habits.

Overall, you were happy with your lifestyle choice, days passing you by in a blur. Slowly, you began the process of healing, time indeed healing your wounds as the saying goes. It felt like a never ending dream, your little corner of paradise in the world, you were content simply living this way for the rest of your days.

Of course, until, fate had different plans in store for you.

Because as far as you ran, as much as you’d like to think you hid in the most remote place in all of Spira, deep down, you always knew that someday, somehow, your past would end up catching up to you.


End file.
